Taming Destruction
by Ziggygebs777
Summary: He's the Espada of Destruction. She's an Angel of Healing. She preserves lives. He ruins them. Who knew opposites really do attract? Slight OOCness all around. M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**__: I do not own Bleach. Tite Kubo does. He gets to be obscenely rich making a living doing something he loves. I get to be obscenely poor making a living doing something I hate._

_Hey, guyz, it's me, back from my hiatus! Sorry about that, but my Gramma had Ovarian Cancer, and I had to choose between this and family. Sorry._

_Anywho, I am having writer's block concerning my other fic, Undying Love, so I am starting a new fic to work any kinks outta my head…and there are a lotta kinks…trust me…hehhehheh…_

_This particular chappie is dedicated to a good friend of mine, a pretty redhead named Claire, who got me off my duff and told me to write. Thanks, Claire, you're such a sweetie! Sorry about the language, but certain characters are just foulmouthed…_

_Also, I am keeping certain names in their old English spelling. I think they work better in that way_

_Anyways, here we goooo…_

**CH 1**

**A Good Day to Die…**

It was a good day to die.

At least, that is what Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez supposed.

From his vantage point, bleeding out on the white sands of Hueco Mundo, he could not see anything but night sky. At least, the small sliver of sky he _could_ see was night. Being face-down in the sand did funny things to one's vision.

He reflected on the saying. A good day to die. He thought about that; the way he considered it, there _was _no really _good_ day to die. A person could die on a bad day (like a rainy one; he hated the rain), or on a superb day (like a day where the sun, artificial or otherwise, was warm and he could grab a pillow and sunbathe outside), or even on a mildly mediocre day (when it was partly cloudy and kinda humid).

It was an old saying, he knew that. Older than dirt. Older than Baraggan, who really _was _older than dirt. It probably stemmed from the time the very first war was fought, when young warriors would say that to each other to pump adrenaline through their veins and send blood to the old manhood to stiffen it up a bit. It went along with those other sayings about death and glory, like "the first to die lives forever!", and "cowards to the rear, and the Devil take the hindmost!".

It also probably served to make the young bravos not seem chickenshit, but, whatever…

Well, maybe it really _was _a good day to die. The weather wasn't the only thing to make a day good. Events shaped your life as well. A party among friends, really great sex, sharing a drink with a friendly acquaintance. Even the final chapter of a book years in the making could make a day great.

Maybe that was what made this a good day to die. The final battle was more than likely over, and, win or lose, his part in it was finished. He had come, he had seen, he had kicked some ass, and then had his ass handed to him. He, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, SextaEspada, the very embodiment of Destruction, had been beaten, fair and square.

Well…

Perhaps _fair and square_ was a bit much.

With an enormous force of will, Grimmjow turned his head, sand scraping his cheek raw, and considered the corpse on the next dune.

Nnoitra Gilga, Quinto Espada, was no more.

The bastard.

The pathetic form of the Arrancar lay, broken and bloodied, exactly where that freakish giant with the bells in his hair had left him. A look of shock adorned the body's features, as if it could not quite believe that it was now a husk.

Grimmjow snorted painfully in partial disdain and semi-amusement.

Served the weirdo with the spoon motif right.

"Dickhead…"

Well, if that Soul Reaper hadn't gutted him, Grimmjow would've.

The bastard had interrupted his fight with Kurosaki.

THE BASTARD HAD INTERRUPTED _HIS_ FIGHT.

Grimmjow clenched his eyes shut as a familiar old friend, Rage, bubbled up in his chest, leaving a sour, bitter taste on his tongue.

He, the great Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, had been laid low in the middle of his fight…

_BY SOMEONE WITH NO BUSINESS EVEN _BEING _THERE!_

"_D-D-DAMN _you to fucking _HELL, _Nnoitra…"

In his anger, the Sexta tried to raise himself from his prone position on the desert floor. He succeeded in pushing his torso off of the sand until the pain washed over him.

He gave a choked shriek of agony, and flopped back onto the sand as the numerous wounds and slashes on his body protested at the movement.

"D-d-dammit…"

He scowled. Even his voice was weak. Gritting his teeth in impotent fury, Grimmjow allowed a single tear of sheer, helpless frustration to escape his eyes.

A weak resonance broke him from his self-pity.

…_Master…_

He snapped his eyes open, searching frantically for the source of the disturbance, and located it not five feet away, on his left.

Pantera.

He could not remember allowing his ultimate form, his Resureccion, to dissipate…but he supposed Pantera had done it on its own. While an Arrancar's Zanpakuto were not sentient beings like the swords the Soul Reapers had, they did have some form of basic intelligence, and preserving the lives of their wielders was always at the forefront of their…semi-thoughts.

More than likely, Pantera had dismissed their combined might in order to spare its master from burning through too much reishi. Smart sword.

He grunted in approval.

At least _somebody_ was on his side.

How long _had_ he been lying here? It had to have been some time; his spiritual energy was dangerously low, the lowest it had ever been, even with the reishi-saturated air of Hueco Mundo. Nnoitra's corpse, while not in good shape in the first place, had decayed to the point where only a little more than his top half remained, the spirit particles that constituted all spirit beings, Hollow, Whole, or otherwise, dissipating.

Given the rate of decay, they had been lying there for at least a week, maybe a little less.

He needed food. The reishi in the air wasn't sustaining him, but only prolonging the agony of Eradication.

There was no rebirth for Eradicated Souls.

It was simple dissolution into Nothingness.

The Death of No Return.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at the thought.

'_Fuck. THAT!'_

Exhaustedly, painfully, he brought his uninjured arm up in front of him, moved it a few degrees to the left…

And _pulled._

He fought through the pain…

And _pulled again._

_Pull…_

_Pull…_

Inch.

By.

Agonizing.

Slow.

Inch.

As he picked up speed, he began to feel better about his prospects, and began to criticize himself for his negative thinking earlier. A good day to die? What a load of crap! He was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the Panther Lord! There WAS no good day to die for him!

His mind began to race.

'_First things first; Heal Up. The Menos Forest should still be full. That's like a buffet for an apex predator like me! A few days, maybe a week in there, and I'll be right as rain! Then, I'll find the rest of us. Those idiot Soul Reapers couldn't have got them all. Stark's still alive, probably. He'll be a good start; he doesn't give a damn about being a leader! Yeeaahhh…Halibel's probably kicking too, she's smart enough and strong enough to cut her losses if she needs to…I'll convince her to let me take the lead somehow. Baraggan will be harder to convince…ah, well, I'll get Tia and Stark to team up with me to kill him. Old bastard's had it coming, anyway. Then, we rebuild the army from the ground up! Aizen won't care; he's either dead, or doing his "God" thing…'_

His mental maunderings had occupied him until he had come within reach of Pantera. It was just six inches from his fingertips…

When he felt it.

He was no longer alone.

He froze, instinct automatically taking over.

This presence wasn't Hollow or Arrancar.

It wasn't Human.

Not Quincy, either.

Soul Reaper.

A _powerful_ one.

It had noticed him, he was sure. Impossible not to, rally, not in the middle of a barren desert. He kept still, waiting…

Nothing happened.

He clenched his teeth so hard that the mask fragment on his face creaked.

Six inches.

Six measly, stupid _inches…_

And in his current state, he didn't dare make a move for Pantera.

Curiosity got the best of him. He allowed a bit of what was left of his spiritual energy to leak out in pesquisa, searching for the presence, finding it, and then _feeling _the entity, touching, probing, poking…

The Soul Reaper.

Poked.

_Back._

A tidal wave of spiritual pressure washed over him, crushing, smothering. In a last desperate attempt, he forced his body into motion, diving for his blade, hoping upon feeble hope that he'd be…

"So, you can still move quickly…" A high voice. Female. Hoarse, like she yelled too much.

What had been behind him was now, suddenly, _impossibly_ before him. A foot stamped down upon his fingers, splintering the bones. He grit back a bellow of pain, and looked up.

The first thing to catch his eye was a white haori trimmed in orange.

A Captain.

Well, shit.

Crossed arms over a modest bosom. Jet black hair, with two ridiculously long braids ending in golden hoops on each. Marble black eyes, glittering with malice and narrowed in angry scorn.

Grimmjow was screwed. He knew it, his wounded body shrieked it, and this woman's dead eyes promised it. His options were nonexistent; he had no juice left in him to burn in flight, let alone a fight. Hell, he could barely breathe normally.

He was as good as dead.

Considering all this, Grimmjow decided to pull out his last weapon.

He raised the hand the Captain was not standing upon…

Her eyebrow went up.

He made a fist…

Both eyebrows raised up.

He turned the back of his fist to her…

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

And he finally raised his middle finger in an elegant salute.

"Fuck you, bitch…"

To her credit, she did not seem angry in the slightest. Instead, a semi-amused smirk crept across her face, and she leaned down ever-so-slightly. "Not even if you _weren't_ a freak, Arrancar." She then raised a hand.

"Take him."

Suddenly, he was surrounded by a score of black-clad warriors. The Captain disappeared, and they descended on him. Grimmjow did his best to fight back, but his state was hindering him in the worst way. He struggled in the iron grip of the assassins until something crashed into the side of his head.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The last thing he heard was Pantera frantically pulsing at him, begging him to grasp its hilt, to lay slaughter upon the shoulders of the aggressors…

And then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **__Wow, two chapters in one 24-hour period…weeeeeeiiirrd… I'm really enjoying writing this fic! This fic is really appealing to me for some reason…maybe because Grimmy is so strangely endearing…no homo…well, I dedicate this particular chapter to a very good friend of mine…you know her as the illustrious Illegitimi! Check out her stories; her works are a great inspiration! _

_I do not own Bleach. Tite Kubo does. He is a short, unattractive Japanese-y type. I am a tall, semi-attractive American-ish type. _

_Anyways, here we goooo…_

**CH 2**

**Plain and Tall…**

"Isane? Please take these to Captain Hitsugaya. He has been expecting them, and I can't seem to find the time to take them myself."

At the sound of the mellifluous voice calling her name, a rather tall girl spun around, an attentive smile on her face.

"Yes, Captain Unohana!" she replied as a stately women with braided black hair handed her a small stack of envelopes.

"Please make sure that they are delivered directly to his hands. He has been waiting for them for some time."

"Of course, Captain. I'll be right back! Should I ask for a reply or corresponding papers?"

The older woman gave a soft smile and shook her head. She then made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on, Isane; we have an assignment from the Captain-Commander himself to attend to afterwards."

A look of awe broke out upon Isane Kotetsu's face as she bowed at the waist to her captain. "I'll be back in a jiffy, Captain Unohana!" She spun around quickly once more, her earrings and braids swinging wildly as she did so, and exited through the office door.

Captain Unohana, the head of the Fourth Division, which handled all matters of healing in the Soul Society, sighed and leaned back in her chair.

_'Alone at last.'_

Don't misunderstand Captain Unohana. She is a dedicated person, and kindness and love practically _ooooozed _from every pore. However…

She wasn't getting any younger.

The average Soul Reaper would automatically take issue with this. Captain Retsu Unohana was very beautiful, with long, luxurious, silky black hair that she habitually wore braided, flawless skin, a light, musical voice, and enormous, soulful eyes. Her demeanor was always kind, her disposition mellow, and her manner impeccable.

The list goes on.

However, what is not common knowledge past a certain level is the fact that Retsu was only slightly younger than Captain-Commander Yamamoto himself.

Retsu honestly had not felt old. She was still spry. No arthritis. No joint pain. No wandering mental faculties. She felt young, she looked young, and, well, she _was_ young still.

Until the Winter War.

Until she had seen multitudes of young Soul Reapers ground into the dust under the ambitions of Sosuke Aizen.

Until she had to help put the pieces of different lives back together.

She had felt old, like her eight-hundred-plus years had finally caught up to her. Oh, her skin was still clear, her hair was still black as a raven's wing…

But her heart and her mind felt brittle.

She had started to take small breaks sometime around the Muramasa Crisis, and the Zanpakuto Rebellion. Nothing big, just breathers here and there. Five minutes sitting in her office alone, ten resting on a bench somewhere. She had even stopped taking paperwork to her lunch, preferring to take that time for her own peace of mind.

She knew that this would pass. She had felt this way a handful of times before, particularly after times of crisis. This time, however, she felt it even deeper than before. Perhaps it was the fact that this entire war was a perversion. Soul Reaper upon Soul Reaper in a fight to the death.

She sighed, reflecting upon these thoughts. Perhaps she needed some fresh air.

She slowly stood up. Her window was facing to the west, so the evening light was streaming in in peach-rose strains to spread upon the floor. Making her way slowly, savoring the gentle sound of her haori swishing, she considered the current predicament.

She had not merely sent Isane away to deliver something to a different division.

A Hell Butterfly had visited minutes before she had summoned her Lieutenant to her side.

The message had disturbed her. Deeply.

Captain Sui-Feng had made a capture in Hueco Mundo.

Possibly the most dangerous and unpredictable member of Aizen's personal cadre, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, had survived the War, and in recognizable shape.

She ruminated on this. While it was true that Jaegerjaquez wasn't the most powerful of the Espada, or even the most intelligent, he was the only one who had dared disrespect Aizen to his face by repeatedly defying direct orders. What was more, he had gotten away with it.

She came to her window and leaned upon the sill. As the second-oldest Soul Reaper, she was next in line to become Captain-Commander should the unthinkable occur, and was privy to information at the same time as Yamamoto to prevent as much turbulence accompanying a shift in power as possible. She didn't like it much; she'd much rather stay in her own division, healing hurt and helping those in need as much as was needed.

But it was her duty to oversee possible death and execution.

And sometimes duty was unpleasant.

The content of the message contained a command that was directly in her area of expertise.

And for the first time in her long, long life, she felt that she wasn't going to enjoy her job.

=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7= Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7 Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=

Isane Kotetsu was not what one would call "beautiful". At least, not if you asked her. According to her, she is "plain and too tall!" This was her response when a good friend of hers, Momo Hinamori, had once told her how envious she was of Isane's beauty. And, in truth, she was rather tall. Taller than all of her sister Shinigami, as well as several of her brothers. As for plain…

Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Isane was not known to be a good judge of art.

She was _very_ pretty, from her large grey eyes to her shock of braided, silver hair, from her well-proportioned body to her sweet, heart-shaped face.

But what many truly envied about Isane was her work ethic.

Lieutenant Kotetsu was the classic example of the perfect subordinate. Whenever Captain Unohana was working, so was Isane. She had developed the habit of arriving at the office fifteen minutes before to tidy up and ready anything that might need her Captain's attention, and then she stayed fifteen minutes after to tidy up (again) and close up shop. Whatever Unohana needed, Isane did her best to provide.

A quick sweep in the seventh ward? "I'm on it, Captain!"

A new batch of gauze? "Here you are, Captain!"

There was a patient who needed a change of bandages. "Which patient, Captain?"

Isane Kotetsu was, indeed, a force of nature, right alongside Retsu Unohana.

At this time, she was running right outside of the Eighth Division, the bundle of letters clutched tightly in hand. The use of Shunpo was not allowed outside of an emergency, so her height was (for once) finally coming in handy.

Long legs, long strides.

Reaching the end of the street that marked the border of Eighth division, she stopped for a small break. She took a few deep breaths…and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice came out of nowhere at her shoulder!

"HEEEY, Isane!"

"_WAAAAUGH!"_

Rangiku Matsumoto jumped a bit as well, startled herself at the surprised squeal emanating from her taller friend. "Jeez, Isane, what the hell?!"

Isane, having composed herself a bit, turned around and gave a half-hearted glare at the strawberry-blond before her. "Rangiku! I told you about sneaking up on me like that!"

Rangiku gave a brilliant, white-toothed smile. "I know, but it's just _sooooo_ much _fun_!"

Isane gave a distressed groan.

Rangiku just ratcheted up her smile a bit more, and eyed the bundle of (now slightly crumpled) letters in Isane's. "Where're you going, anyways? Making a delivery?"

Isane looked down at her package, and gave a slightly exasperated sigh. Smoothing them out as best as she could against her thigh, she nodded.

"Yes, I am. Captain Unohana wants these delivered to Captain Hitsugaya, A-S-A-P. I was just on my way to your division when you…" She trailed off, waving a finger in the air to signify Matsumoto's sneak attack.

Said member of Tenth Division gave an apologetic grin, and shrugged.

Isane gave a good-natured roll of the eyes and a friendly shrug of her own.

Both women gave a giggle.

"Well, I was on my way back, anyways. Want me to take them for you?"

"No, thanks, Ran. Strictly for the Captain's hands. I wouldn't mind company, though."

The two women started back to walking, chatting about whatever popped into their heads. Somewhere around the subject of the makeup that Rangiku had given Isane for her birthday, Rangiku gave another gorgeous smile, and leaned in close.

"Sooooo…"

Isane immediately became cautious. It was never a good thing when Rangiku began the next topic in that way.

Gossip was about to be fished for.

"Sooooo…what, Ran?"

Rangiku put an arm around her taller friend's shoulder.

"Sooooo…how did the date go?"

Isane sighed. Rangiku was referring to the fact that she had set Isane up on a blind date with…someone she had never heard of from the Sixth Division.

It hadn't gone well.

"It went as well as could be expected," she said dejectedly.

Rangiku's grin faded a bit.

"Oh, what happened, Isane? He didn't try to cop a feel, did he?" she demanded, becoming angry.

Isane looked at her friend in shock. "Wha-? NO, Ran, he was fine, he-"

Rangiku's anger was now in full swing, though, and Isane was now so much background noise. "That little bastard! He _promised _me he was going to be on his best behavior! He _swore _he'd keep his hands to himself, and he goes and does _THIS_?! I'm gonna beat his scrawny ass—!"

"RANGIKU!"

At Isane's raised voice, Matsumoto stopped mid-rant, and looked at her friend. "What?"

Isane made a soothing motion with her hands. "He was fine. Keino was a perfect gentleman."

Matsumoto gave a confused shake of her head. "Then what went wrong? That makeover I gave you should've made you completely irresistible! We did that thing with your hair, and—"

"It was the same thing that always happens, Ran. 'Isane, it was great, and I had a great time and all, but—'…"

"Did he make a crack about your height?"

Isane gave a sad shake of her head as they passed the entrance of Ninth Division. "No, in fact he claimed my legs were a bonus. His complaint was that my eyes are too big."

Rangiku stopped dead in her tracks. "…What, now?"

The silver haired girl gave a sad nod of her head. "He said, and I quote, 'Your eyes are so big that I feel like you're stalking me.'"

"…That makes absolutely no sense."

"He said that they were like an owl's eyes."

Rangiku's face became sad at that. "I'm so sorry, Isane; I really thought that this one would work out."

Isane gave a quick shrug and continued on her way.

"It's okay, Ran."

"No, it's not, Isane. This is my fault, but don't worry! The next one will—"

"No offense, Rangiku, but I want to take a break for a while. I think three failed dates in a row are enough for the time being…"

Rangiku caught up about the time they reached the outer border of Division Ten. "Nonsense, Isane! They are _not_ failures—you've merely discovered three guys who just aren't right for you! Someday soon, you'll meet that guy who looks at your height and your hair and your eyes, and says to himself: 'A goddess walks among us!', and then he'll sweep you off your feet, and shower you with love, and…"

Isane gave an amused grin at her friend waxing eloquent about that dream guy, and gave a shake of her head, her braids swaying slightly. "Well, Ran, until that guy comes to me, I think I'm just going to lay low for a while. I've got a lot on my plate for now, anyway, and don't know how I'm going to juggle all that, and your—" she pulled a face. "—blind dates."

Rangiku gave a pretty moue of disappointment. "Awww, but setting you up with all these guys is so much _fun_! It's like a puzzle!"

Isane gave a chirrup of laughter. "No more puzzles for now, Rangiku!"

"Okaaaay…"

They had reached the office of the Tenth Division, and entered the building. A snowy white head, hair sticking up in every direction, was bent over the desk, completing the last of what had been an enormous stack of paperwork. At the sound of activity, it moved upward to reveal a younger-looking face dominated by large, expressive teal eyes.

Large, teal eyes that were expressing an enormous amount of impatience.

"_MATSUMOTO!_ I sent you to the Seventhth Division _four hours ago_! Where the _hell_ have you _been_?!"

Rangiku gave a chipper smile and wave. "Hel-LO, Captain! I was just delivering those acquisition orders to Captain Komamura like you asked, and then I saw Captain Kyoraku and Shuhei drinking in the Eighth Division, and, Captain, let me tell you, there were, like, a _hundred bottles of sake there,_ and I just couldn't let them try to finish all of that by their lonesome, and so I said to myself, I said, 'Well, my kind and understanding Captain would surely not want me to leave my friends in the lurch like that', and so I—"

Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya seemed to regret asking Rangiku what she had been doing. He turned to the other Lieutenant in the room. "Can I help you, Lieutenant Kotetsu?"

Isane, who had been trying to remember if Matsumoto had acted drunkenly during their walk to their current position, jumped to attention.

"Oh, yes, Captain!"

She handed him the bundle of letters. He took them, and turned his attention back to Rangiku.

"Lieutenant."

"—and that's when Shunsui took off his—"

"Matsumoto!"

"—but Shuhei said that, no, he had never stroked his dic—"

"_RANGIKU!_"

"—tionary…" Rangiku finished her sentence.

A tic mark was visible on Toshiro's forehead. "Rangiku," He grated out. "Thanks to your lax attitude, I have just spent the majority of my afternoon _doing your work. Again_."

Matsumoto gave an audible gulp.

Hitsugaya merely pointed to her desk, where another mountain of paperwork awaited signatures.

"Get. To. _WORK!" _

A flurry of movement, a blur too quick to be followed, and Rangiku was once again in Lieutenant mode, scribbling signature after signature upon the papers.

Captain Hitsugaya sighed, running a hand through his shock of pure white hair. He then turned to Isane.

"That will be all, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Isane gave a bow in salute, with a precise "Thank you, Sir", and made her way outside. The second the door closed, however…

"Awww, _Cap-_taaaainnn…my _pen_ brooooke…."

Isane smiled to herself, and started to make her way back to the Fourth Division, and, therefore, Captain Unohana.

Twilight was falling, and her Captain needed her Lieutenant for their special assignment.

_**A/N: **__Review, or I'll find out where you live and stand over your bed while you sleep…and BREATHE on you._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **__Wow…how intriguing…third chapter…well. Anyway, not much to say for now. This chapter is dedicated to Xtremegal87, who just got published! Congratulations, girlfriend! May royalty checks pour in and fans flock to your door! _

_I don't own Bleach, so don't be a putz._

_Anyways, here we goooo…_

**CH 3**

**Prince in Chains…**

The first thing Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez knew was pain.

Not light.

Not darkness.

Pain.

The first thought he had was something like this: '_*&^%*&^{J[oiks8!'_

Later, he was never sure what that thought was, but he got the distinct impression that it was some sort of curse about ferrets.

No, he didn't understand it, either.

The second thought that entered his head was: '_Jeez-o-FUCK, that HURTS!'_

The words that left his mouth were considerably less articulate.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGHHH!"

"Ahhh…so you're awake."

Grimmjow opened his eyes.

Only to find that a blindfold had been tied in front of them.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he snarled. "Who the hell are you?!"

The 'tap-tap-tap' of footsteps against stone echoed off what were presumably walls told him he was indoors. He moved his head side-to-side to ascertain where they were coming from. Or, he tried to.

There was some sort of metal band across his forehead. And his wrists. And ankles. And other major joints.

He was tied onto some sort of metal slab.

"We were worried for a while, you know," the voice continued. "You've been unconscious for a little over two weeks. My boys can be… excitable at times, and having an Arrancar at their mercy got their blood up."

_My boys…_

He jerked against his bonds. "You BITCH! WHERE THE HELL AM I?!"

A dry chuckle echoed off the walls as the footsteps continued.

"And here I was, thinking you had forgotten all about me…"

The blindfold was suddenly ripped off, exposing his eyes to unbearably bright light.

He gasped in pain at the shock.

"…I'm so flattered."

Eyes becoming used to the glare, he squinted and focused upon the diminutive woman's face.

Yep, it was her alright, not inches away from his face.

"Where the hell am I?!"

She smirked, amused. "Got a bit of a one track mind, eh? Not surprising. No matter their form, a Hollow is just a dumb animal."

"Yeah, well, I'm still smarter than you!"

"Says the pathetic, broken creature tied to my interrogation table."

He grew still at this. '_Interrogation table…?'_

The dark smirk grew as she saw the flash of trepidation on his face. "That's right. In-ter-ro-ga-tion ta-ble…" she said, drawing out the words. She ran a loving finger down the side of the slab. "This is where my…_special_ _guests_ are taken to be…_entertained._"

Grimmjow snapped his teeth at her face, spittle flying from his jaws. She leaned back lazily, her smirk fading a bit.

"Still so spirited, even when humbled." She shrugged. "I don't know what you're so worked up about. It's not like you know anything that I want or need to know. You're just a visitor here."

His eyes narrowed. "What…?"

She sat on the edge of the slab, inspecting her nails for dirt. "That's right; you are insignificant to us, intelligence –wise. You are now here for your final fate to be decided."

His eyes bulged a bit. "Final fate? What the hell are you talking about, woman?"

"Final fate. You know…what is going to happen to you. Personally," she replied, drawing a razor-edged knife from some hidden pocket, "I hope they give you to me. That would be fun…"

Grimmjow fought down the feeling of trapped-animal panic rising in his gut, and decided to play it cool. "Really? And what happened to you not liking me? Last I checked, you wouldn't get into bed with me even if I wasn't a freak…"

The woman's eyes widened a bit at the verbal riposte, and then narrowed in anger. In one swift movement, she had jumped on the table, mounted his waist, and held her knife to his throat, pushing up so his head was cocked back uncomfortably.

"No, little Hollow, that is _not_ what I said. What I _said_ was I wouldn't _fuck_ you. I never said I wouldn't have _fun _with you. And the way I see it…" she grated, "…you're already in my bed. All that's left is for some _fun…_and I'm ready if you are…or _aren't_ as the case may be…"

The Arrancar on the table snarled in pain as she ground her elbow into his sternum.

"Enough, Captain Sui-Feng!" a voice like gravel barked.

The woman known as Captain Sui-Feng glared over her shoulder at someone behind her. She then turned her attention back to the figure she was straddling. She smiled wickedly at him, her eyes glittering darkly. "We'll continue this _later_, little Hollow," she promised, whisking the knife away after pushing her elbow in again to lever herself up.

Recovering his breath, and what was left of his composure, Grimmjow looked at the figure who had made the psychotic harpy stop baiting him. It was a white-haori-clad old man, so old he looked as if he could give Baraggan a run for his money.

He had no hair upon his scarred head, but he did have a beard, long and full, with a bristling mustache to go along with it. He was slightly bent over with age, and used a large, knobbly stick to support himself.

He also only had one arm.

The figure came closer to the table, his cane making a 'tok-tok-tok' noise upon the stone floor. Grimmjow, despite his hatred for Soul Reapers in general, had to admit to himself that he was impressed. He knew from killing several in his time that no average Soul Reaper lived for too long once on active duty, so this guy _had _to be powerful.

And he knew of only one Shinigami so old that he actually _looked_ old.

"Do you know who I am, Arrancar?"

That voice again, like gravel being ground inside a copper bell.

Grimmjow decided that, even though he hated Shinigami, blatant disrespect would do him no favors.

"I know who you are, Old Man Yamamoto."

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Isane opened the door to the main building of the Second Division for her Captain, allowing the shorter woman in. Captain Unohana nodded, gave a grateful smile at the girl, and stepped inside.

She had much trepidation about this assignment. Part of the reason for this was the location of where this event was going to take place. In all of Soul Society, there were only four places where she felt uncomfortable.

The first was the Maggot's Nest, where the most dangerous Shinigami were imprisoned, whether they had committed a crime or not. Unohana did not like having to visit a place where she was not allowed to heal the tormented, and her Zanpakuto, Minazuki, pitched a fit about her refusal to break the laws. Minazuki, its one real instinct to heal the wounded (friend or foe), could not understand how Retsu could tolerate seeing such pain and suffering. The truth was, she couldn't. So, she avoided the place altogether if she was able.

The second was Sokyoku Hill, where executions were held, until the ryoka-turned-war hero, Ichigo Kurosaki, had assisted in the destruction of the Sokyoku itself. She had loved that hill, where, many centuries before, there had once been a little grove of trees with a small sweet-water spring in the middle. Another perversion, it seemed; what was once beautiful turned into a place of death. It was a secret that she kept close to her heart, the hope that the execution scaffold would never be rebuilt there

The third was the domain of Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi, the Twelfth Division. Almost a century and a half ago, when Kisuke Urahara had held sway there, it was a semi-cheerful place, where the pursuit of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, but not at the expense of others, was its main purpose. However, with the flight of Urahara, and the rise of Kurotsuchi, it had become a hive of madness and strange deviancy, where knowledge was a thing to be pursued relentlessly, and innocence, purity, and sanctity be damned. She had gone there once. Only once.

And it was enough to give the gentlest Captain of the Gotei Thirteen nightmares.

Finally, the last place she did not like was the bowels of Second Division. Even when Yoruichi Shihoin, with her lighthearted nature, had administrated this division, it had always been a tense place, filled with people who were too quiet and unobtrusive to not be suspicious. Secrets and lies were the main way of life for those in this division, and it unnerved her to be among a group who could stand in the same room with her and not be noticed. It had only become worse when Sui-Feng had taken over, and, using her own peculiar brand of anger, paranoia, and sheer intolerance, had forged it into a division that was only whispered about.

Deep in the darkest parts of Division Two were the Interrogation Rooms.

No one who had been taken there and had come out was ever the same again.

_If_ they were taken out.

And here she was, dragging her beloved Lieutenant, a girl who was the daughter she'd never had, into one of the places _she, _Retsu Unohana, felt edgy.

She sighed in self-reproach.

"Captain? Are you all right?"

Unohana nodded and turned to her subordinate as they walked down into the catacombs of Second Division. Seeing the trepidation on the girl's face, she smiled sweetly. "Yes, Isane? Is something the matter?"

Isane fidgeted a bit, obviously nervous. "Um…I-I hate to question orders, but…uh…"

"You're wondering why we are here, Isane."

It wasn't a question, and Isane felt a moment of chagrin at being read so well and easily.

Unohana gave a small chuckle, and patted the young woman reassuringly. "Do not worry, Isane. I also am not in my element here."

Isane gave a smile at this remark.

"We are to be present for the Captain-Commander to make a decision regarding a prisoner-of-war."

Isane snapped her head to her Captain's now-serious face. "A prisoner-of-_war_?"

Unohana nodded.

Brow furrowed, Lieutenant Kotetsu considered the ramifications of this information. "But…but we just finished the Winter War…Tosen's dead, Captain Ichimaru was posthumously absolved, and Aizen's sentence is already in effect…"

Unohana said nothing, letting her pupil figure it out.

Said pupil's eyes widened. "…An…Arrancar…?"

A single nod was her confirmation.

Isane's breath seemed to catch in her throat. She had known that a few of the Arrancar had survived. Nelliel tu Oderschvanck had been restored to her adult form, and was in the Living World with Kisuke Urahara and Yoruichi Shihoin, as well as her Fraccion. The strange leader of the Exequias, Rudobonn, had disappeared from Los Noches, and Tia Halibel now inhabited the throne of Hueco Mundo, providing some form of order to the chaos inherent to that realm. The fact that she was doing so, as well as the fact that Aizen had betrayed her, provided a reason to leave her alone for the time being.

There were a handful of others that had escaped the judgment of the Soul Reapers, but there had been no prisoners taken. The ones that had escaped were allowed to run, but any fighters that had kept pushing were destroyed.

'_A prisoner…'_

"Who is it?"

Serious blue eyes gazed into timid grey ones. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

An _Espada_ had been _captured alive?!_

"T-t-that name sounds familiar…I can't place a face to it, though…"

"He fought in both Karakura Town and Hueco Mundo. We had no visual intelligence on him, though; only what Ichigo Kurosaki could give us. However, his behavior is well known. Seemingly laid-back, if irreverent, but he is actually brutal, impulsive, and excessively violent. Short-tempered and cunning. Sadistic. He is a master of exploiting the weaknesses of his opponents. Also, he is absolutely convinced of his own greatness. It would be wise to remain silent in his presence, otherwise he may attempt to manipulate you in some way."

"Yes, ma'am…" Silence. "Um…Captain…?"

"Yes, Isane?" asked Retsu, stopping before their destination.

"W…Why am _I_ here? This seems like no place for a Lieutenant…"

Retsu Unohana smiled gently, reassuringly. "Isane, you are here because there is absolutely no one else I would have by my side."

Isane blushed in embarrassed pleasure at the compliment.

"Besides…"

Isane perked up at her superior's words.

"…You need to become used to being in a situation requiring a Captain's presence."

Isane's eyes widened at the blatant implication in the statement.

"_Captain—!_"

"Not now, Isane. Business is at hand."

And with that, Captain Retsu Unohana, Administrator of the Fourth Division, the second-oldest and second-most powerful Soul Reaper in Soul Society, pushed open the double doors leading into the Interrogation Room, and led the way inside.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: **__Holy crap, I am on a ROLL! Three chapters in two days? I AM A BEAST! Well, I have not much to say again, except for the fact that his chapter is dedicated to BlackVelvetBand. Check her stories out, 'cuz they is real good! She's left FFNet to be a starving artist for a while, so here's a pint hoping she's successful, and, if she's not, well, maybe she'll have some good stories to tell. God bless ya, mavourneen!_

_Idon't own BLeach, so quit yer bitchin'._

_Anyways, here we goooo…_

**CH 4**

**Caged Beast…**

"I know who you are, Old Man Yamamoto."

The Captain-Commander of all Soul Society, Genryuusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, grunted in grudging approval at the Sexta Espada's statement. It was obvious that Aizen was as well-organized as had been thought, even going so far as to ensure that his cohorts were informed as to the greatest threats they faced.

Not that it had done Aizen any good, in the end.

"Do you know why you're here, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez?"

Said figure rolled his eyes. "First off, can you let me sit up? Staring at you like this is giving me a cramp."

Yamamoto, to his credit, did not react very much to this blatant stall tactic. Instead, he turned his slit-eyed gaze in Sui-Feng's direction. She nodded, going to the wall. She fiddled with…something, and the table suddenly lurched, much to Grimmjow's surprise.

"_SHIT!"_

The old man turned that same slit-eyed gaze upon the Arrancar on the slab, which had gone to an angled vertical position. Grimmjow was now supported by the metal bands around his limbs.

Not very comfortable, but now he could see what was what.

Sui-Feng moved past the slab to stand by her leader, giving a slight swell of spiritual pressure as she did, the equivalent of a shoulder-shove.

"Dyke…" growled the captive Arrancar.

She paid him no mind.

"Now, if you feel you can answer my questions…"

Grimmjow turned his attention back to the grizzled old warrior before him.

"Yeah, no."

A single eye opened a bare fraction of an inch beneath a hoary brow…

…and Grimmjow gasped as if punched in the gut.

The eye closed again.

"I'm sorry…I do not believe I heard you, youngster. At my age, the hearing is not what it used to be. Could you please repeat what you said?"

Grimmjow gasped and choked from the shock of sheer _power_ that had erupted from the old man's eye. He'd known that Yamamoto kept his eyes closed to keep his power in check, since the eyes were where the greatest loss of bodily reishi occurred…

…but, _jeezus_, that was _ridiculous!_

"W..wa…water…" he gasped. "Water…"

Yamamoto sighed. He gave a quick motion to Sui-Feng, who gave a smile of gleeful malice. She went to a corner of the room, and grabbed a pail of very dirty water that was there. She brought it back…

…and proceeded to throw it in the face of the winded Arrancar.

"Drink up."

Grimmjow gasped for air again, but managed to get a swallow of the stagnant mess down.

It tasted Godawful.

Kind of like defeat.

As he was recovering his breath again, a motion in the back of the room drew everyone else's attention. The double doors were opening…

…and in walked Captain Retsu Unohana and Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu.

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Retsu stood stock-still, taking in the scene before her. Captain-Commander Yamamoto was standing there, as authoritative as ever. Captain Sui-Feng was as well, holding an empty bucket and looking like a cat amidst a nest of baby birds. And, on the metal slab, with slashes and bruises covering every inch of his body, was what was left of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

She became aware of a feeling of pity welling up in her breast. A small gasp behind her told her Isane was experiencing the exact same thing.

Retsu took a deep breath.

"What is the meaning of this, Captain Sui-Feng?"

The diminutive woman whipped her angry gaze from the pathetic form on the table to Unohana. "What did you say?"

Retsu allowed a hint of steel to enter her tone. "What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This?"

Isane shrank back from this confrontation, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She shouldn't be seeing two captains conflicting with each other, and in front of Yamamoto, no less.

This could get ugly.

Retsu continued. "I was under the impression that the assessment of the prisoner," she nodded at Grimmjow, "was not to begin until I was present, in order to make sure that he was healthy enough for the proceedings."

Sui-Feng thrust her jaw forward pugnaciously. "I was acting under the _Captain-Commander's _orders, _Retsu._ If there is an issue here, take it up with _him_." She stuck a thumb at Yamamoto.

Retsu looked to him.

He gave a short bow of his head. "My apologies, Captain Unohana, if you feel I slighted you."

She accepted the semi-apology with a slight nod of her head. "May I examine the prisoner?"

"You may."

Retsu Unohana stepped forward, calling, "Isane," over her shoulder. At this, Isane hopped to action, opening the satchel of supplies she had brought with her from the office.

"Lieutenant."

She froze at the harsh voice of Captain Sui-Feng, who eyed her suspiciously.

"What the blazing _hell_ do you think _you're _doing here?"

Isane, who was not the bravest of people under normal circumstances, gave a small "_eep"_ and snapped to attention, attempting to answer her. "I-I-I w-w-w-w-w-was o-ord—"

Sui-Feng was having none of it. "Well? Spit it out, you silly girl! What. Are. You. _Doing_. Here?"

"She has come as my personal assistant for this assignment, Captain. If you are going to criticize someone, then speak with me. Lieutenant Kotetsu is merely following my orders. Is that an issue?"

Sui-Feng alternated glaring at Isane and Captain Unohana for some seconds, then gave a wave of her hand. "Just don't make it a habit, _Captain_ Unohana," she spat.

Retsu Unohana gave a small, disarming smile. "Of course not, Captain Sui-Feng. I would hate to disturb an _animal_ in its natural habitat."

A harsh bark of laughter drew everyone's attention to their long-silent prisoner.

"Damn, dyke, you just got slammed!"

Sui-Feng's face grew an interesting shade of magenta at this remark. "_Silence_, you son of a _bitch!" _she shrieked, another knife appearing in her hand.

Grimmjow gave a sharp-fanged smile, accentuated by his mask-fragment. "I'm a son of a bitch? Well, _you're_ a bitch…can I call you Mommy?"

A scream of sheer rage tore out of Sui-Feng's throat as she began stalking toward—

"_ENOUGH."_

The gravel-toned voice of the old man in the room drew everyone to a standstill.

Yamamoto pinned Sui-Feng with his closed-eye stare. "Captain Sui-Feng. You will control yourself _and_ your temper, or you will leave this room." He turned to a sneering Grimmjow. "You will remain silent, unless directly spoken to."

He finally turned to Captain Unohana and Isane. "You may continue your inspection."

Retsu gave a small bow of her head. "Thank you, Captain-Commander. Isane. Come."

Isane, wiping the cold sweat of sheer fright from her brow, scurried forward with her bag. She passed Sui-Feng, who was nailing both her and Unohana with a deathly glare.

Sui-Feng turned to the Captain-Commander. "I can see I am no longer needed, sir. I have other duties to attend to."

Yamamoto nodded his head. "Dismissed."

And with that, Sui-Feng vanished.

It was fortunate that, for all his power, Yamamoto was unable to read minds.

The language her dark thoughts were utilizing would have made even _him_ blush.

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Grimmjow watched as the black-haired Shinigami inspected his wounds. She had a cool washcloth in her hand, dabbing here and there at various cuts, washing the blood and dirt away. He had to admit, there was a part of him that really appreciated it. He had some fear about infection; in his current state, a fever could be deadly, and his dirt-water bath couldn't be beneficial.

Then again, he balked at the fact that a _Soul Reaper_ was tending him.

But beggars couldn't be choosers.

The tall, silver-haired one captured his attention next. Unlike the black-haired one, who was almost ignoring him, she seemed very nervous indeed. He had seen her reaction to the dyke-captain, had smelled the raw fear rolling off of her when accosted. She kept flicking her eyes to his, and then focusing them elsewhere, as if fearing making direct eye contact would somehow hurt her.

He snorted.

'_Weak.'_

The black-haired one stood up, and turned to her assistant. "Salve Forty-Three, Isane, and some of Seventy-Nine as well."

"Yes, Captain."

'_Isane, eh?'_ He kept listening.

"Uh, Captain Unohana?"

"Yes, Isane?"

Unohana. Retsu was her first name. Useful to know.

"Are you sure about Seventy-Nine? I'm not seeing any acid burns…Seventy-Nine isn't good for energy burns…"

She had a low, husky voice, pleasant to listen to. The other one, Retsu, had a high voice.

'_Keep that in mind, Grimm…'_

Unohana gave an amused glance at Isane. "Very good. Excellent attention to detail, Isane. What would you suggest?"

'_She was testing you, girl.'_ They kept each other on their toes. Not a sign of distrust, though; more like the opposite. Nothing to exploit there.

He turned his attention to the old man to his left…and looked harder.

'_What the hell…'_

Unbelievable.

The old man had fallen asleep.

Standing up.

He rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to his medics.

Time to plot his escape.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**__ Well, well, well…five chapters in three days. I don't know how I'm doing this .Maybe my creative juices are flowing hot and thick, like hot chocolate pudding of awesomeness._

_Well, I do want to thank a few certain individuals for their faves, follows and reviews. _

_The first person is __**ko-brz**__, who alerted the story and submitted a review. You are right, __**ko**__; Grimm is an arrogant prick, while Isane is a bit of a ditherer. I was actually taking a shower one day, thinking about strange couples, and BAM! Isane and Grimmjow popped into my head. Weird, huh? Oh, and don't worry, if you review every couple of chappies, I will not find you…or will I?_

_Thanks to __**auditorytoo**__, as well. SUBMIT A REVIEW! OR ELSE!_

_And finally, muchos, muchos gracias to __**Cherry-Toxic**__ for the alert and review. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated your glowing praise. I feel all melty inside! I was proud of Retsu as well. I do not understand why everyone feels it is so hard to write for her though…Just imagine the kindest person possible and give them private thoughts and doubts. A couple authors who I feel have done an excellent job are__** MatsuMama **__and __**Illegitimi.**__ Also, I have a good friend who reminds me of Retsu very much-I have based her personality heavily on that. How did you like Sui-Feng? I was really happy with her! As for intimidation…hehhehheh…Drop a line sometimes!_

_This chappie is dedicated to the aforementioned MatsuMama. MORE HITSUMOTO FICS! __**MOOOOAR!**_

_I don't own Bleach, so stop bothering me._

_Anyways, here we goooo…_

**CH 5**

**Secret Plans…**

"OW! _JEEZ,_ woman, what the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?!"

Isane flinched at the harsh voice, nearly dropping the alcohol-soaked cotton swab she was cleaning her ward's wounds with. "I-I-I'm so sorry! I can't help it though—alcohol burns on raw wounds…"

Grimmjow snarled in pain and anger. "Well, how about you _DON'T USE IT?! IT HURTS!"_

Isane began to apologize again, feeling almost like Hanataro with a member of the Eleventh Division. She looked desperately over at her captain. Retsu was watching from a few feet away, having decided to let Isane take over tending to the prisoner Arrancar's ails.

Retsu just gave a placid smile.

Isane gave a grin that was more of a grimace. No help from that quarter; one of Retsu's most basic requirements to be in the Fourth Division was the ability to deal with irate or difficult patients, particularly the large group of muscleheads inhabiting the Eleventh Division.

Grimmjow was giving _their_ irritability a run for their money.

"Hey, wait a minute…why aren't you using that kido-thing anyway? I could be back to normal in a second!"

Isane looked up briefly from where she was cleaning a particularly nasty gash on his chest, relieved that he had stopped cursing at her. "Well, before we can try that, we have to clean any infection that may have set into the wounds themselves. If we just close them up, any bacteria that are present will just be sealed inside, and, given your condition…well…"

Grimmjow snorted. "Whatever. Just hurry it up, already. I'm tired of being stuck up here."

Isane nervously nodded her head. "Just a few more minutes…"

"_OOOWWW! DAMMIT, WOMAN, THAT HURTS!"_

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Yamamoto, who had woken up from his power nap, gave an amused glance at the dark-haired woman beside him. They had both been watching the proceedings for the last fifteen minutes, observing the behavior of the Soul Reaper and the Arrancar before them. Grimmjow had alternated between sullen silences and complaining about the methods of healing being utilized by the timid healer tending to him.

"His behavior is not going to work in his favor, Retsu."

Retsu turned to him. "He is what he is, Genryuusai. Honestly, I'd be worried if he _wasn't_ being petulant. At least this way we are able to ensure that he is not plotting something while he is in pain…" She gave a wry grin.

Yamamoto grunted. She spoke the truth. As long as the prisoner was kept otherwise occupied, he could not try to think of a plan to wreak any havoc.

"If your idea works, Retsu, it could change everything. You do realize that, do you not?"

Retsu gave a short nod. "I formulated this plan in the hopes that it would, Genryuusai. I grow tired of the constant conflict."

Yamamoto sighed. "I do not know if I am in complete support of this endeavor." He looked at Grimmjow, who had gone back from bitter complaining to silence as Isane handled the wounds on his shoulder. "Grimmjow is untrustworthy."

Retsu gave a resigned sigh. "Well, Genryuusai, I was frankly surprised you accepted it as quickly as you did. I formulated it as soon as I heard the news of his capture."

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_**Flashback, several hours earlier**_

_Retsu Unohana was finishing some last minute inventory resupply forms. Things were winding down early today. Isane was at her shelf, placing some medical reference books back in their respective places._

_It had been a slow day._

_Nobody from the Eleventh Division._

_No one with training injuries._

_After the War, everyone was taking it easy._

'Thank God.'

_She had had enough of healing avoidable wounds for the time being._

_Retsu shuffled some papers as another of her subordinates, the nervous one known as Hanataro Yamada, came in with a small cup of hot tea. She gave the poor lad a gentle smile which he returned bashfully as he exited the room quietly._

_Another one of her surrogate children._

'Sweet boy.'

_She inhaled the steam of the tea, allowing its warmth to spread through her body, and then took a sip._

_Aaaahh…chamomile, perfectly steeped._

'Wonderful.'

_She looked out of her window at the late afternoon sun streaming in through the pane. Her favorite time of day, evening. It was always peaceful, lazy, and the stress of the day seemed to melt into a kind of pleasant haze._

_She loved this time of day because it reminded her of the halcyon times when she lived in the quiet village in the mountains to the west of the Rukon Districts. _

_It may have been small and poor, but home was still home. _

_She sighed, and sat back, closing her eyes, enjoying the silence…_

…_until the soft, chiming sound broke her out of her reverie._

_Opening her crystal-blue eyes, she looked to the window to see a small black form fluttering desperately outside the glass._

_A Hell Butterfly._

'Oh, dear.'

_She swiftly move out of her chair to the window, and opened it, allowing the fragile creature to alight upon her finger. _

_She nearly couldn't believe the contents of the message._

_After having the message repeated numerous times, she sent it back to the Sixth Division to retire for the night. _

_She sat down at her desk, her thoughts racing at the speed of light from the revelation just delivered to her. _

_An Espada had been captured. _

_A thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind came roaring to the forefront._

_And then, modest Retsu Unohana did something she rarely did._

_She smiled at one of her own ideas._

_Captain Unohana rapidly gathered some forms for Captain Hitsugaya that needed to be delivered, placing them in a few envelopes. _

"_Isane? Please take these to Captain Hitsugaya. He has been expecting them, and I can't seem to find the time to take them myself."_

_At the sound of the mellifluous voice calling her name, the rather tall girl spun around, an attentive smile on her face. _

"_Yes, Captain Unohana!" she replied as the stately woman handed her a small stack of envelopes._

"_Please make sure that they are delivered directly to his hands. He has been waiting for them for some time."_

"_Of course, Captain. I'll be right back! Should I ask for a reply or corresponding papers?"_

_The older woman gave a soft smile and shook her head. She then made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on, Isane; we have an assignment from the Captain-Commander himself to attend to afterwards."_

_A look of awe broke out upon Isane Kotetsu's face as she bowed at the waist to her captain. "I'll be back in a jiffy, Captain Unohana!" She spun around quickly once more, her earrings and braids swinging wildly as she did so, and exited through the office door._

_Captain Unohana, the head of the Fourth Division, which handled all matters of healing in the Soul Society, sighed and leaned back in her chair. _

'Alone at last.'

_She slowly stood up. Her window was facing to the west, so the evening light was streaming in in peach-rose strains to spread upon the floor. Making her way slowly, savoring the gentle sound of her haori swishing, she considered the current predicament._

_She came to her window and leaned upon the sill. As the second-oldest Soul Reaper, she was next in line to become Captain-Commander should the unthinkable occur, and was privy to information at the same time as Yamamoto to prevent as much turbulence accompanying a shift in power as possible. She didn't like it much; she'd much rather stay in her own division, healing hurt and helping those in need as much as was needed. _

_But it was her duty to oversee possible death and execution._

_And sometimes duty was unpleasant._

_The content of the message contained a command that was directly in her area of expertise._

_And for the first time in her long, long life, she felt that she wasn't going to enjoy her job._

_Unless…_

_She summoned another Hell Butterfly from the Sixth Division. It arrived within minutes, and Retsu gave it a very detailed message to the Captain-Commander, finally sending it on its way._

_Within minutes, it came back, bearing a message consisting of only two words: _'Reserved Agreement'_._

_She smiled to herself. _

_She sat back down in her seat. Now, to wait for Isane._

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"I was impressed with the rate at which you thought of this course of action. You know, if it had been anyone else, I would have sent them to you to be evaluated."

Retsu smiled at the gentle humor in Yamamoto's voice. "Has our guest arrived yet?"

Yamamoto snorted. "Yes. It is one of the reasons for Sui-Feng's black mood."

"Lady Yoruichi didn't come with him, did she?"

A shake of the head was her answer.

She smiled gently.

Looking to the pair in the middle of the room, Yamamoto and Unohana observed Isane reaching the end of her ministrations to the wounded prisoner.

"Time to inform him of his choices."

Retsu nodded in agreement.

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Isane wiped a bit of extra antiseptic gel from the wound on Grimmjow's left side, being careful not to rub the edge of the cut. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork while wiping her brow.

All done.

Not a bad job, if she did say so herself. Not Unohana-perfection, by any means, but certainly not bad.

She looked up at her charge. "How does it feel, Mr. Jaegerjaquez?"

She had taken to calling him that while she had been administering her art to him.

Isane gave a faint smile at him.

"It feels like shit."

The smile faded immediately. She shuffled a bit. "Wha…what's wrong? I think I did everything right…"

Grimmjow had a slight sneer on his lips as he watched her discomfort. "Well, let's take an _inventory_, shall we? First off, my—"

"You have done a wonderful job, Isane. I am very proud of you."

Isane snapped to attention immediately, a flush of pleasure dusting across the bridge of her nose. Executing a sharp bow, she said, "Thank you, Captain!", and stepped back for her two superiors.

Retsu and Yamamoto stood in front of Grimmjow, meeting his blazing, angry eyes calmly.

Soul Reapers and Arrancar regarded each other.

Unsurprisingly, it was Grimmjow who spoke first.

"Finally woke up, old man? Jeezus, you're a lazy son of a bitch."

Behind them, he saw Isane stiffen.

"You obviously do not understand the gravity of your situation, Sexta Espada Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," murmured the Captain-Commander.

Grimmjow curled his lip in derision, exposing sharp, slightly-too-long fangs. "I get it, alright. That short dyke told me all about it. You're here to '_decide my fate'. _I know what that means!" he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm and scorn.

A single, silver-grey eyebrow raised itself. "Oh? Do you, really?"

"Yeah," spat the captive.

"Well, do _inform_ me, Arrancar. You apparently know more about it than _I_ do, at any rate."

Grimmjow did not miss the sardonic tone in the old Soul Reaper's voice. Nor did he miss the penetrating stare of the female captain beside him.

"Don't play dumb, you old bastard! You know _exactly _what I'm talking about! And tell that bitch beside you to stop fucking looking at me! Jeezus, I feel like I'm in a zoo…"

Isane jerked in affronted anger. "How dare you! You can't talk to Cap—"

"Isane."

The girl trailed off at the unspoken command in her captain's tone. She returned to attention.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

Grimmjow watched this small exchange with interest, a smirk on his face. "I guess you _do _got some backbone after all, girl. Too bad it's wasted in this dump with…" His voice trailed off as Captain Unohana, unsmiling, turned her eyes back to him.

They were like ice water being thrown on his crotch. Something about them just made him stiffen up in shocked silence.

They didn't glitter with malice like the dyke's, or take his breath away like the old man's. They just…stopped him.

Grimmjow suddenly felt very small.

The woman spoke.

"If you are unable to say anything nice, Mr. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," she said quietly, "then I would advise against you saying anything at all. Am I perfectly clear?"

The Arrancar felt compelled to nod as much as his bonds would allow.

The smile returned to Captain Unohana's face, hiding those terrible eyes again. "Excellent. We have an understanding."

She turned to the old man by her side. "The floor is yours, Captain-Commander."

He nodded.

'Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. You are guilty of crimes against the Soul Society, including, but not limited to, the devouring of Whole Souls, the devouring of your Fellow Hollows, criminal development of Shinigami powers, conspiring with a known traitor to ruin the balance between the realms, and," he took a deep breath, "being a general nuisance to all known realms. Do you deny these charges?"

Grimmjow smirked. "You forgot public urination."

The Captain-Commander twitched. "I beg your pardon?"

The smirk widened into a toothy grin. "Yeah, I took a piss on a rose bush in Karakura Town. Just thought I'd bring that up."

A snort behind them caused the two captains to turn around in surprise.

Isane was as red as a cherry, and had an absolutely mortified look on her face.

The man standing beside her, on the other hand, was having a difficult time hiding his smile behind his fan. He was clad in olive-green clothes, with a black jacket over them. A green-and-white striped bucket hat was perched on his head.

"Sorry, but I happen to know exactly what he's talking about. Make sure you add that onto the charges, if it isn't already there."

Kisuke Urahara, genius owner of the Urahara Shop, had arrived.

_**A/N: **__Well, last one for a few days, ya'll. Updates may be spotty at times, so bear with me. _

_Review, or I'll find out where you live and clog your toilets for you, forcing you to go to the nearest gas station to drop a deuce. _


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:**__ Oh, my God, I am soooo sorry, guyz! It has been the 6 months from hell, and my writing has been on the backburn for a while! I will not bore you with a long author's note, so I'll start with this:_

_I don't own Bleach, so stop begging me for money._

_PS-Mon Amis, the fact that an Arrancar does not have to eat souls to survive makes the fact that Grimmjow and select others have done so a crime. They are no longer animals; they are able to make intelligent decisions, and the decision to eat a soul as an Arrancar is a conscious one._

**CH 6**

**The Decisions of the Sexta Espada…**

Kisuke Urahara waved his fan lackadaisically in front of his face as he viewed the scene in the room, with two Captains and a bound, half-naked prisoner.

He giggled.

"Well, I didn't realize that this little get-together would be _that_ kind of party!" He stepped past the blushing Lieutenant to stand next to Captain Unohana. "If I had, I would've brought my ball gag and a whip!"

Yamamoto said nothing.

Retsu gave a small, patronizing smile.

Grimmjow just stared.

After a few seconds of rather awkward silence, Kisuke hid his face behind his fan. "O-kay, maybe that joke was too soon…"

'Indeed," Retsu murmured.

"_Anyway_, I'm here, just like I was asked to be! Unless I'm really not, and this is just a hallucination! Which is likely, seeing as how my concussion is still hanging around…but that's beside the point, isn't it? The point is," and with this, Urahara lifted his bucket hat, took a small parcel that had been lying beneath it, and held it out, "I have brought…_the item!"_ He then took a closer look at the object. "Oh, wait, that's not it…" He began to rummage around in the pockets of his haori.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed in angry suspicion. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Kisuke stopped, turned to the Arrancar, and then looked down at his clothes. "What do you mean? Is it the smell? I swear, I took a shower! Yoruichi reminded me, so I made double sure I did! I even used soap this time!"

Grimmjow shook his head as much as he was able, a look of incredulous disbelief on his face. He turned his eyes to the two Captains in the room.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what this moron is doing here?"

Yamamoto spoke.

"Since the beginning of time, Arrancar, the race of Hollows, the race of Man, and the race of Shinigami have fought each other. There has been a balance between the three for at least that long. The Hollow eats the Soul of the Man, the Shinigami purifies the Hollow, and the Man becomes a Spirit, which may become either a Hollow or a Shinigami.

"However, there have always been forces that have sought to…upset this balance. The Quincies were the greatest threat, with their dedication to the _destruction_ of errant souls instead of _sublimating_ them. However, with their defeat and eradication, the balance has remained strong for some time. That was, until Aizen created _your_ kind."

Grimmjow's brow cocked itself. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm a Hollow! There have been Arrancars before Aizen, we're nothing special!"

Yamamoto grunted. "While this is true, there is another, fundamental truth behind these facts." He pointed a bony finger at Grimmjow.

"_They_," he rumbled, "were _natural_ Arrancars. _You _are _not."_

Retsu stepped forward. "What we are saying, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, is that you and your kind are an addition to the races. A brand new species, unlike any seen before. Previous Arrancar were not as strong as your kind, nor could they develop as quickly. The Arrancar made by Aizen, like you and your brothers and sisters, are fundamentally different. You are near-perfect, if not _completely _perfect, hybrids between Shinigami and Hollows. This upsets the balance."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes in thought.

Kisuke spoke up this time. "You can see the situation that this puts us in, can't you? With the balance so upset, we're not sure what to do. Should we leave you alone? Should we extend a friendly hand? Or should we-"

"Destroy us?" Grimmjow interrupted. He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Not fuckin' likely."

Kisuke shrugged, still searching his pockets. "We could…if we were pushed. There are only a few dozen of you left who can truly be called fighters, after all, and then there's the fact that a few of them have actually allied themselves with us. I imagine that the only ones who would be any trouble are…well, that's a different topic for another day."

Grimmjow gave no outward signs of the interest he felt at hearing those words. Kisuke Urahara had just let slip some useful information about who may be left alive, and strong enough to give the Shinigami trouble. That could work into a plan, provided he could get some names. He turned his attentions back to his surroundings, where Urahara was nattering blithely on.

"-but a campaign to wipe you all out would be costly in the end, so we decided on this plan of action!"

Grimmjow blinked, completely lost. 'What the hell are you yakking about?"

Isane had been paying close attention to the proceedings in front of her, while ensuring that she took no active part in them. Captain Unohana had obviously wished her to be here for a reason, and she wanted to keep note of any goings-on in case she was called upon to provide input, either now or later.

So, imagine how she floored she must have been to hear Yamamoto's words cut off Kisuke's.

"He's talking about turning you into an ally, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!"

Her own expression of disbelief mirrored the Arrancar's.

"_WHAT?!"_

The only difference between their individual shouts of shock was the mortified hand she clapped over her mouth, a completely different reaction from the prisoner's hysterical, near-crazed laughter.

"You…have _GOT_…to be kidding me…" Grimmjow gasped as his fit subsided. "_Me…_join_ you_…_please_ tell me that you aren't serious."

"Decidedly so, Grimmjow," Retsu stated. "You are one of the last living Espada, and the only one we consider to be a current threat. You are too dangerous to leave to your own devices for long…but too valuable a possible asset to just destroy. There is also the fact that you are-"

"What? The fact that I'm a weapon for you? 'Cuz that's all I'm hearing, about how you want to make me into nothing but a puppet for you guys!"

Retsu waited patiently for his tirade to end. "No, Mr. Jaegerjaquez, we do not plan on using you as a weapon…unless the situation calls for it. There is also the fact that you are a former Espada, and, as such, there are the lower Arrancar who look up to you."

Isane's eyebrows shot up. What was Captain Unohana getting at?

'We hope that, if the other Arrancar see that you are not being mistreated, they will seek to enter into a peace accord with us. With the help of the Arrancars, we would be able to predict when and where Hollow attacks would happen to a greater extent than we are able to now, thus helping us to keep the balance of the realms preserved."

"And what makes you think-"

'AH-_HA_! Eureka!"

Isane's eyes, as well as every other eye in the room, went to the figure of Kisuke Urahara, who was holding a circular object aloft.

"You would _never_ guess where it was! No, seriously, guess, I want to hear what you think!" He looked around. "Anyone? Anyone at all? No? Well, I'm not telling. Either way, I found it!"

"What did you find, Mr. Urahara?" The words were out of Isane's mouth before she could stop them.

He whipped around towards her, baring his teeth in a blinding grin. "I am soooo _glad_ you asked, Lieutenant Kotetsu! What you see in my hand," and he waved said hand around a bit, the object balanced in his palm, "is one of my own patented inventions! I call it the Service Lifestyle Anti-Venereal Entertainment Collar! Or, SLAVE Collar for short!"

Silence reigned.

"Um…w-what does it…do?" asked Isane.

"Well, basically, the target wears the collar, and is forced to obey the commands of the person it is programmed to listen to!"

"And…" began Grimmjow quietly, "_what _are you planning on doing with _that?_"

Kisuke gave another brilliant grin. 'Why, we're just gonna slip it around your neck, tighten it up a little, program it to recognize only Retsu's voice commands or attempts to take it off, and let it roll from there!"

Another dead silence.

"_Fuck. That."_

Kisuke nodded. "I thought you'd say that. Captain-Commander Yamamoto, may I take the liberty of…_explaining_ the current situation to Mr. Jaegerjaquez? I think he'll understand what's what by the end."

Yamamoto nodded. "Keep it short, Urahara."

Kisuke gave a jaunty little salute.

"Okay, Grimm, here's the deal. You have two choices here-"

"I'll take the second one."

"You haven't let me expl-"

"Is the collar the first?"

"Well, yes, bu-"

"I'll take the second one."

"Are you su-"

"Yes. There's no way in _hell_ I'm getting a collar put on me."

Kisuke fell silent, and cocked his head to the side in thought. He took a few steps closer to the Arrancar, bound on the table before him, and began to speak quietly.

"Grimmjow, I'm trying to help you here."

"What the hell is helpful about a collar?"

Kisuke licked dry lips and began whispering into Grimmjow's ear. "The Old Man doesn't give a damn about how we go about making you an ally. He's open to suggestions, and has come up with a few himself, and the one he's most fond of is…uh…I guess you could call it _forced reprogramming…_"

"Forced _what?_"

"He'll put you into the hands of Captain Sui-Feng and Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi, where, through a series of physical and mental tortures, combined with several rather messy and unethical operations, you'll come out a mere shell of your former self. And that's just your body. There's no telling what mental state you'll be in."

Grimmjow was silent, his eyes burning holes into Kisuke's, a look of disbelief deep in them.

Kisuke leaned back into Grimmjow's ear. "Are you sure that you still want choice two?"

He dangled the collar on one finger, noting how Grimmjow's eyes seemed to follow it, as if weighing the consequences of both options.

Kisuke knew that this would be a struggle for Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. There was no middle ground here that the Arrancar could take. For now, escape was out of the question, and, with the lack of that option, a person of the Arrancar's character would be most partial to dying, preferably taking as many enemies as he could with him.

But death was not an option, either.

So it was now down to two paths-one where he could be humble for a time, and still live with the chance of escape…

Or one where he could go down, kicking and screaming, only to come back out a shivering, cowering shade of the great warrior he was, provided he survived the…_tender_ care of the two most sadistic Captains of the Gotei 13.

However, to Grimmjow, the second option didn't sacrifice his pride.

But it also made him weak, in the end.

"Come on, Grimmjow…" Kisuke whispered. "It's decision time."

"…."

"Choice One…or Choice Two?"


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:**__ Alritey, Ya'll, this one is for the lovely AaviyanTage__!__ I will not bore you with a long author's note, so I'll start with this:_

_If you say that I own Bleach, I will violate your corpse in numerous nasty ways._

**CH 7**

**The Consequences of Certain Decisions…**

'_Okay, Isane…careful…caaaaareful…'_

Isane Kotetsu was busy in the Research and Development section of the Fourth Division. Normally, what she was doing (which was something along the lines of discovering a cure for the common cold, which had been a near epidemic last season) would be left to a lower-ranked member to deal with. However, it was another rather slow day, and so, after performing her duties (along with a few others, just to make sure that they were done right), she had retreated to the R&D Lab in an effort to prolong her signing out and going home.

In her gloved hands (latex-free, of course), she held a beaker of bright-green fluid, which she was currently extracting into a dropper for insertion into another beaker, this one full of red liquid.

Indeed, carefulness was called for in this situation-the green stuff was actually a high-concentration acid that could melt through a table quicker than you could say "Holy Frijoles".

Dangerous stuff, really. Necessary for her little experiment, but still dangerous.

Having successfully garnered her prize from the beaker, Isane then proceeded to hover the dropper over the red-filled beaker. The current experiment called for three drops to go into the red beaker-no more, no less. Any more, and the whole thing had the potential to explode in her face (quite literally). Any less and nothing would happen.

At least, that was what she _hoped_.

Experimental science was always a tricky business, and, when tinkering with chemicals based in reiatsu, the entire thing could get ugly.

Resisting the urge to lift her safety goggles and rub her bruised eye, she took a steadying breath and proceeded with her procedure.

A gentle squeeze on the bulb, and…

_Dwip!_

'_One…'_

Squeeze…

_Dwip!_

'_Two…'_

She relaxed her grip on the eyedropper, taking a deep breath through her mask. This next drop would tell her everything. If the resulting combination of the two liquids turned a deep reddish-gold, then her work (six weeks of it) would result in the cure for the most annoying illness in history. If it turned brown…well, imagine what the color brown is associated with, and the general idea is achieved.

Isane closed her eyes and centered herself. She would need steady hands, healing hands, the hands of the experienced medic and surgeon she was, to ensure the outcome of this test.

She tipped the dropper back to the beaker.

'_Steady, girl…'_

She applied the barest hint of pressure.

'_Steeeaaady…'_

A small bead of jade appeared at the tip.

'_Almoooost…'_

A drop of sweat ran from her hairline down her neck and into the collar of her shihakusho.

She ignored it in favor of the growing dot on the dropper.

It grew…and swelled…

And then gravity, blessed gravity, finally began to take effect.

Isane Kotetsu, Mother of the Cure for the Cold, watched as the tear of green began to fall from the eyedropper and-

_**CRASH!**_

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE FUCKING FOOD AROUND HERE?!"

The shock of the noise caused a sudden squeeze upon the bulb, and Isane Kotetsu, Creator of a Shitstain in a Beaker, stared forlornly at her ruined experiment.

Ever so calmly, ever so slowly, she rose from her stool. She turned, making her way to the biohazard box in the corner. Stripped off her latex-free gloves. Untied the breathing mask around her face.

Trashed them.

She turned to the sink.

Washed her hands.

Flinched as another crash and a bellow rang through the building.

"I MEAN IT, I'M FUCKING HUNGRY!"

She took several paper towels, dried her hands, and threw the trash away. After exiting through the hermetically sealed door, she leaned her tired, 14-hour shift-weary body on the wall, and put her face in her hands.

Lifted her face.

Placed her goggles on the top of her silver-haired head.

And put her face back into her palms, a sigh of exhaustion gusting out of her body.

Anyone in this situation without Isane's honest nature and dedication to remembering minor details would be unable to remember what a normal life was like- a normal, slightly hectic, medically-oriented, and most importantly, _Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez-free_ life.

But Isane, being Isane, did.

She also remembered how it had ended, three weeks ago almost to the day…

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**Flashbackitude**

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_"Come on, Grimmjow…" Kisuke whispered. "It's decision time."_

_"…."_

_"Choice One…or Choice Two?"_

_Anyone with half a brain could see the little war going on inside Grimmjow's mind. On the one hand, his sensible side, the side gained after becoming an Arrancar, was telling him to take this chance at a continued existence, this chance of living and possible escape._

_The other side, his feral Hollow side, was snarling the equivalent of "Shut the fuck up" to the more rational portion of his being, and growling out how it was better to go down fighting than live in a collar._

_Grimmjow could see both sides of the argument._

_He hated decisions._

_He shot his eyes around the room, seeing what the individual reactions from this were._

_Kisuke had a hungry, almost manic look in his eye, a tinge of quiet desperation gleaming as well. _

_Retsu looked serene; as if she was completely ambivalent to the current conflict._

_Yamamoto just stood there like an old mountain, threatening and immovable._

_The girl, though…_

_She looked…nervous, head down and fingers fidgeting._

_Why would she be nervous?_

_He grinned. Here was an easy prey to attack._

"_Hey, girl."_

_At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up, her grey eyes locking with his._

"_What do you think?"_

_Isane blinked rapidly, shocked at his question. She looked to her Captain._

_Unohana raised a brow, but said nothing._

"_Well?"_

_She looked back to Grimmjow, unsure of what to say. This was obviously a trick, a trap to gain an advantage over her in some way…_

_But hell if she could see _how_…_

"_Um…" she hedged. "Well…i-if you want to know…uh…I think…you should g-g-go with Mr. Urahara's…um…plan."_

_Grimmjow managed to look both derisively amused and thoughtful. "And why should I?"_

_Isane fidgeted, uncomfortable under his intense, blue-eyed stare. "Wha…what do you mean?"_

_Grimmjow gave an irritated snort. "I mean, why should I agree to being a _pet_," and here he jerked his chin at Kisuke and his collar, "instead of making things _difficult_ for you people?"_

_Isane wrung her hands, giving a despairing look to Captain Unohana. Retsu just gave her an encouraging little smile and a nod. _

_Isane swallowed hard._

_She hated being in the middle._

"_Well…we're...uh...only trying to _help_ you, Mr. Jaegerjaquez…" she said, offering a weak half-smile to the man._

_He glared at her flatly. "I didn't ask for your help, and that was a piece of shit answer. Try again."_

_Isane bit her lip and shifted on her feet. If he didn't want to be helped…no, that was ridiculous, of course he wanted it, he just wouldn't admit it…but that obviously wasn't what he wanted to hear…_

'What could he possibly want? Well…what type of person is he? Sadistic…but he can't put that to use here…cunning…but there are people here who are smarter than he is…' _Isane ran through the list of what little she knew about the Sexta Espada. _

_Sadistic._

_Cunning._

_Intelligent._

_Violent._

_And most of all…_

_Isane Kotetsu's eyes widened._

'Vengeful.'

"_W-well…if you don't accept Mr. Urahara's proposal…then…" she trailed off._

_Every head turned to her, and pinned her under gazes ranging from mildly curious to amused._

_She hunched her shoulders. "…th-then you won't be able to…kill…Ichigo Kurosaki…"_

_The eyes upon her blinked in surprise._

_Kisuke's absent grin returned in full force. "That's _right_, Grimmjow! You and our Ichigo do have some…_unfinished business_, right? Of course, when one considers the fact that he still mopped the floor with your-"_

"_THE _HELL___HE DID!"_

_Kisuke shrugged good-naturedly, twirling the collar on a finger. "Okay, okay, the score is still undecided. That doesn't change the point. _You_…" and here he poked Grimmjow in the chest, "…have the choice of either being able to fight Ichigo, or of being too wasted and feeble to even ruffle his hair!"_

_Grimmjow worked his jaw, grating the teeth of his mask as he did so. His plan to single out and humiliate the tall girl had backfired, and badly. But, in its failure, his plan had forced a truth to the forefront, one that he had tried to keep hidden from himself._

_Ichigo Kurosaki still looked down on him._

_And for that, the man needed to die._

_No Aizens. _

_No Nnoitras._

_No Shinigami._

_No Espada._

_Just the two sides of the same coin._

_Just Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Ichigo Kurosaki._

"_Well?" leered Urahara._

_Grimmjow curled his lip. "Fine! I'll play along with this…but we do it on my terms!"_

"_Excellent! Retsu, if you would, please…"_

_Unohana started forward as Kisuke made to put the collar around Grimmjow's neck._

"_Hold it!"_

_Retsu stopped midstep and Kisuke looked up at the prisoner, surprised._

_Grimmjow just gave a cruel smile. _

"_Not her."_

_Retsu blinked. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Jaegerjaquez?"_

"_I mean what I say. I don't want you keeping an eye on me and ordering me around."_

_Kisuke stepped back, mildly amused. "Well, it's not like___I_ can do it, Grimmjow, and I don't think that the Captain-Commander is inclined to do so…"_

_Grimmjow gave another derisive snort. "Don't want him, either." He turned his slightly-mad gaze to the only other figure in the room._

"_Her."_

_The room fell dead silent as, once again, all eyes turned to Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu._

"_Preposterous."_

_The grating voice of the old man in the room rang to the corners._

"_You are in no position to bargain, Arrancar, and to even attempt to do so-"_

"_I…I accept…"_

_Another silence._

_All eyes to Kotetsu._

_Isane shifted nervously on her feet. _

"_Isane, are you sure you wish to do this?"_

_She looked into the eyes of her mentor, the woman as good as her mother, and nodded. "W-well…you're a Captain…and you have duties, ma'am…in the end, I'm just a Lieutenant…and…um…"_

_Yamamoto interrupted. "If you are certain of this, Lieutenant Kotetsu, then that is the end of it." He turned to Grimmjow. "Know this, Arrancar: There will be more eyes upon you than those at the Fourth Division. Step one toe out of line…" and with this he flared his reiatsu slightly, "and I will handle your discipline. Personally."_

_Grimmjow merely spat at Yamamoto's feet._

_Kisuke gave another of his flashy smiles. "O-kay, then! Lieutenant Kotetsu, over here if you will! We need to program the collar to recognize your voice patterns!"_

_As Isane made her way over to the table, she was well aware of a few things._

_The foremost of these was the burning blue gaze of the creature boring a hole into her head._

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**Flashbackitude Ends**

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And it had been nothing but three weeks of Hell ever since.

Another crash rumbled the wall she was leaning against.

She rolled her eyes.

"_Why _did I ever volunteer for this?" she questioned the empty space.

Empty space said nothing.

It wasn't like she had been expecting any answer. Isane Kotetsu had gotten herself into this mess, and, dammit, Isane Kotetsu would have to get herself out.

She sighed, and continued on to the mess hall of the Fourth Division. That was where he would be-she had given him _explicit_ instructions to stay within that area.

But of course, Grimmjow being Grimmjow, he would find a way to make trouble.

Collar or no collar.

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Grimmjow was not really having very much fun.

Oh, don't misunderstand. If there was one thing that he liked, it was when he was able to play God and kick over a proverbial anthill.

The problem was…

'_Now, it's boring…'_

Three weeks ago, he had agreed to the whole "alliance" concept. He had the collar put on him (discovering the unmentioned side-effect of it dampening his own reiatsu to the level of a "Fifth Seat", whatever the hell _that_ was), and then watched as the girl, Isane, had her voice programmed into it.

Now, whenever she gave an order, he had to obey it, or it would sap what was left of his strength, making it difficult for him to even stay awake.

However…

However, there were always loopholes to this sort of thing. Kisuke had admitted his little device's greatest failing, and had made it within earshot of Grimmjow.

The orders had to be rather specific.

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**Flashbackitude **

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"_You can't just tell him to stop, Isane. At best, he'll either freeze or the order will be ignored. At worst, his bodily functions will cease, and he'll die."_

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**Flashbackitude **

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Which explained why he was in the mess of the Fourth, making life a general dose of Hell for everyone there.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **__**AAAAAAND TAMING DESTRUCTION IS BACK. ON. LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!**_

_**Sorry about the hiatus (again), but I gotta earn money for school...which means three jobs. At once. Joynesses. Anyways, I uploaded a new chapter of Mending the Broken some time ago since I had it lying around from before the break, and it got no response! :( So I decided this. Ima be alternating between Mending and Taming, got it? And, to sweeten the deal...can I please ask you guys to please check out Mending, please? If I get 15 reviews, I'll do a special one-shot for Tia Halibel or Nel... I'm really excited about Mending, and want you to be, too... **_

_**Now, without further ado, I present, in honor of my version of Spock, **_

_**Dr whiteface, the newest chapter of the TD UNIVERSE! Who loves ya, baby?**_

_**Oh, and FANART IS ENCOURAGED!**_

**CH 8**

**Spanking Some Tail**

Retsu Unohana gave a small sigh as another large impact from the nearby cafeteria made its presence known. The cup of chamomile tea on her desk lay untouched, its contents long cooled; it was futile trying to relax with such goings-on.

Grimmjow was proving to be quite the handful.

Oh, they had tried getting him to be of help around the wards, tried making him be cooperative, tried giving him something to keep him occupied. However, even this seemed to be giving the Arrancar far too much leeway, for no matter the order Isane gave, be it from not causing trouble to staying quiet and out of the way, he seemed to magically find some loophole and wreak havoc.

This latest fit of violence was not the first time such an occurrence had happened within the last three weeks. No, on the contrary, Mr. Jaegerjaquez seemed to be making it a point to cause at least four minor disturbances daily (anywhere from "accidentally" tipping full bedpans over to "mistakenly" using clean sheets to blow his nose) and three major ones weekly, making for a grand total of nine SNAFU's that she had been forced to intervene with personally.

She did a quick review of the worst.

Week One, he had decided to "assist" after one of Kenpachi Zaraki's little war "simulations". Seemingly innocuous, yes? Not if assisting meant smothering the weaker members of the Eleventh into unconsciousness with their pillows in order to "facilitate calmness in the face of getting stabbed by needles". Isane had been utterly stunned by this, and had demanded to know if that was how the medical staff in Las Noches handled their patients. Grimmjow merely sneered, saying that Arrancar didn't need anesthetics of any kind. She then told him to go sit in the chair she had put by her desk for him.

Week Two, he had gotten it into his head that amputations and cosmetic surgeries needed to be performed upon some of the Tenth Division patients suffering from a particularly bad case of food poisoning as a result of Lieutenant Matsumoto's cooking. Grimmjow had somehow gotten hold of a bonesaw and begun dividing the patients up into groups, this one for a "head-ectomy", and that one for "general bodily evisceration". It had taken four of her most skilled members to wrestle him down and a binding kido from herself until Isane could be retrieved from overseeing the cleaning of the sewers in the next Division over. The Lieutenant had reprimanded him harshly, but Grimmjow had merely curled his lip and went to sit in his chair by her desk.

Last week, Grimmjow had gotten hold of bandages and proceeded to mummify several unconscious patients by using up an entire fortnight's worth of the stuff, thus forcing Retsu to acquisition more. This resulted in them, for the first time in _centuries_, being over-budget. It was by a negligible amount, but Retsu Unohana had always managed to break exactly even, not a cent more or less used or needed. Isane had been utterly mortified and gave Grimmjow a severe scolding, complete with fists on her hips and plenty of finger shaking. He had rolled his eyes at her and told her to "lick his ass". He then retreated back to his chair.

Another bang. "GODDAMMIT, I WANT SOME _REAL _FOOD!"

Retsu gave another sigh. She knew exactly what the problem was. Exactly. Precisely, even. She could name it right now.

The problem was not Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Oh, he was _problematic, _to be sure, but he was not the main issue. No, the main issue lay in his caretaker, Isane Kotetsu herself.

The girl was being entirely too nice to the man, and this was because she was dead scared of him.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was not, by any means, behaving in a way that was not completely predictable. He did not want to be here but had no choice in the matter, so naturally he was going to make things difficult for the people he viewed as his jailers. Granted, she was sure he knew that things could be a lot worse, such as him being locked in the Fourth Division holding cell all day instead of only at night, or, worse yet, being placed in the hands of Sui-Feng and Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

However...at the rate he was going, the aforementioned Captains were going to have a new toy.

Again, the problem rested with Isane.

Retsu had been present at each and every confrontation major and minor, whether anyone had seen her or not, and she had to say that she was mildly disappointed in her Lieutenant. Isane was the poster-child for an ineffective authority figure, being either incapable or unwilling to discipline those under their hand. Every instance that involved Grimmjow always ended up in her trying to _shame _him, of all things.

Retsu knew from experience.

There was very little chance of shaming people like Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez with words alone. In fact, it would only serve to infuriate him, and the chair, which was the equivalent of being put in a corner, only made things worse.

And in the meantime, the Arrancar had the entire Division under control through fear.

Could she possibly step in? Of course she could. But she chose not to. Isane Kotetsu had volunteered to keep an eye on him, which would include his discipline management, and she needed to learn how to do so. Grimmjow was perfect for this, in the fact that he was no bedridden Eleventh Division member whom she could cow into obeying. He was strong, even with the collar, and stubborn.

Another slam, and a book fell from her shelf. A prickly sensation at the edge of her senses alerted her to her immediate subordinate's movement toward the cafeteria from the lab area.

Retsu Unohana gave one last sigh. She looked to her cup of chamomile as if considering it, thoughts flashing through her head. What could she do to rectify...?

Inspiration struck.

A quick grab, a tilt of the head, and the lukewarm beverage was gone, and the Captain of Division Four quickly followed its example as she decided to join her charge in the eatery.

Perhaps, she mused, Isane would surprise her this time...

_**=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7**_

Grimmjow threw another stool over the tables that the kitchen staff had set up in a makeshift fortress. He smirked as he heard the overweight biddies cluck at each other in fright. How easy it was to imagine them behind their little barricade, clutching ladles to bosoms, eyes wide in fear.

A snort escaped him.

_'Pathetic.'_

He glared at the wall to his left, where a large, multicolored stain of food matter decorated it in too-orange carrot, overly-green bean, and not-quite-brown gravy, with a nice texturing of rubbery steamed rice providing definition. Sliding to the floor was what was left of what had been supposed to be meat of some form, with a large bite taken out of it.

Originally, Grimmjow had meandered his way in there for a small bite to nosh on. Stretch (as he derisively called his "caretaker", what with her being an inch taller then him) had neglected to pack him one of her ridiculous little "bin-tow" boxes of rabbit food for lunch due to her working a long shift today, for which he was eternally grateful. Grabbing a tray, he had leered at one of the old grandmas behind the counter until they dished out, and then found himself a seat alone and away from the pissants scattered here and there.

He had ignored the vegetables, as anybody with _any _common sense would, and gone straight for the steak. It had taken him only a half second to take that large bite, anticipation of something with a little blood giving him speed.

It had only taken a fraction of the rest of that second for his mouth to discover what the gravy smell had hidden from his nose.

This...was definitely _not _meat.

_'Fuckin' hospital food...'_

Of course, it would only make sense to throw the tray away in the trash receptacle not three feet away from him and calmly walk out without a word to say.

He could _be_ _mature._

He could _be_ _adult._

He could _not make trouble._

All three of which were Stretch's orders for the day.

Well...

_Maturity _was hard to manage when you were starving...

_Being adult_ was easy, since his body was that of one...

And _not making trouble? _He wasn't going to make trouble...he was merely going to let the staff of the cafeteria know, in no uncertain terms, that their standard of food was completely inadequate for the discerning palate.

However, Soul Reapers were known for being rather dull-witted.

And so, his "terms" had to be very pronounced.

Which is how Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had ended up standing in a room that looked like a twister had flown through it.

Forty or fifty Squad members were in various states of cover, ranging from squatting in corners and holding trays over their heads to copying the cooks and creating a barricade of tables to hide behind. Stools and trays were everywhere, silverware was scattered over the floor, and condiments decorated the ceiling.

And, despite being the catalyst for all this...despite living up to his aspect of Death, Destruction...

He found no satisfaction from the surrounding chaos.

So much havoc had been introduced by his hand in the past few weeks...he was sure that they would have been so fed up with him that they would have either let him go or executed him by now, either of which would have been more or less fine by him.

But nothing had been done.

This puzzled Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to no end.

In Las Noches, Aizen had only let him go so far. Grimmjow would be quiet for a time, and then have a week of raising seven different kinds of Cain, anywhere from harmless pranks on the staff and any available Fraccion to mindless thuggery directed towards the Privaron Espada. Once, he had even taken his own bunch of worthless Fraccion to the Living Realm, which was where he had lost them all and gained a nemesis in the form of one Ichigo Kurosaki. This was one of the times Aizen had punished him (though Tosen had done the deed) by cutting off his arm and removing him temporarily from the Espada. The other time was when Grimmjow was about to kill the invading group led by Kurosaki, and Aizen had (literally) pressured him back into sitting.

There were other punishments besides those two, with the point being that he would run amok for anywhere from five to six days in a row, Aizen would punish him somehow, and Grimmjow would then lay low for some time, then repeat. But here...that pattern, the rhythm he had built his life around, was nonexistent.

Here, he just made constant chaos, and the quelling of the tide, the punishment that would stem the flow of unrest, was so weak that it may as well have been nonexistent.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez did not know how he felt about that.

He took a few aimless steps to the left, then back to the right, looking around himself a tad uncertainly. A sense of loss entered him.

What was the point to all of this?

For the better part of the last month, he had made as much hell as he could. Random acts of violence, vulgarity, threatening everything that drew breath. The people who weren't apprehensive for what he was were now utterly terrified of him for what he might do. He was unofficial King of Division Four.

And it had already lost its flavor.

What was the point of doing whatever you felt like if there was no risk of real punishment? Where was the thrill, the rush of teetering on the edge, knowing that you could be smacked back into place at any time?

It was at this point, surrounded by evidence of his sway over the stupid cattle in this hole of a Division, that Grimmjow discovered he was bored.

_'Well, shit.'_

_**=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7**_

Upon entering the cafeteria, Isane Kotetsu was met with something out of a battlefield.

Stools and chairs lay upended.

Tables were on their sides, Shinigami and patients hiding behind them.

Food splattered on the floor, the walls, even the ceiling.

And Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was standing in the only true clear space, the middle of the room, glaring defiantly around him.

She gave an inward moan of despair as her shoulders slumped.

_'Why is this happening...?'_

"Grimmjow! What are you _doing?!"_

At the sound of his caretaker's voice, the Arrancar turned to face her and grinned, the mask fragment on his face turning it into a violent leer.

Instinctively, her arms wrapped around her torso, covering her body from his eyes. This was his personal torment especially for her. Somehow, the man had sensed how self-conscious she was about her figure and took advantage of this every chance he could, staring at...certain areas just to make her uncomfortable.

She hated that about him.

"Well well well..." Drawled the demon amidst the wreckage. "Look who it is. How's it going, Stretch?"

At his laconic greeting, Isane flinched, shoulders rounding more as she shrank into herself even deeper. "W-w-what do you think you're doing? This is completely unreasonable behavior! What if–"

He held up a hand and began working the thumb in the manner of a jaw. "'Completely unreasonable! What are you doing?' Blah-blahblah-blahblah," he cruelly mocked. Putting his hand down, the Arrancar shifted his weight onto one leg and crossed his arms. "Ya know, Legs, if this bitching you do keeps up, you're gonna get gray real quick" His eyes shot up to her hair, and his smirk gave way to a look of faux realization.

"Oh...wait..."

Isane tightened her self-hug, face burning red with humiliation. "T-that wasn't very nice, Grimmjow..."

"And you say that like I care?"

The poor girl suddenly felt very aware of the eyes of her subordinates on her, obviously wondering why she wasn't putting this Arrancar in his place the way she could with irate patients.

She was also aware of the burning blue sapphires in the same Arrancar's face burning into her, taunting her with the fact that he _knew _why she wasn't taking him down.

He knew, in the way that all predators knew, that she was afraid of him, that she feared his temper and biting sarcasm, that he made her feel tiny, like a small animal he could torment day or night as he wished.

The eyes, so beautiful, but so cold and cruel, taunted her with the knowledge that, even though _he _wore the collar, _she _was the one under the spell.

And Isane Kotetsu realized just out of her depth she was.

She turned on her heel. " F-follow me, Grimmjow..."

A snort erupted behind her, even as she heard him take a step after her, then another as she walked. "Why? Gonna put me in _my chair _again?"

The Lieutenant flinched at the acid in his tone, absently rubbing at the small bruise under her right eye in anxiety. "N-n-no...we're going to see Captain Unohana about getting our arrangement changed..."

Grimmjow smiled at her back. She'd admitted it. She couldn't handle him! He'd won! He was going to...

...what _was _he going to do?

His smile faded.

What victory was this? Where was the taste of adrenaline on his tongue?

He furrowed his brow, trying to think of a way to spice this up...

And then, it hit him.

She was walking in front of him, and his eyes became drawn by the sway of her hips, and, thus, to her ample bottom. Hidden by her robes though it was, he could see, just the same way he could tell with the rather marvelous breasts that he ogled when she wasn't looking, that it was nice.

_Very _nice indeed, round and full as the moon on a dark night.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez smiled again, as his dark and deliciously twisted idea came to fruition.

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Retsu Unohana walked in to the cafeteria in time to notice several things. The most obvious, by far, was the sheer level of unrest, what with foodstuffs and cutlery decorating every square inch, as well as the assortment of seats and Soul Reapers scattered here and there.

What she noticed next was a very red-faced Isane Kotetsu, shoulders slumped and arms around herself, miserably leading a demonically leering Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to the very hallway that she herself had just exited.

The final things she noticed were Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez raising his right hand and–

_SWAP! _

_Bringing it down sharply upon her Lieutenant's bottom!_

"Sure thing, sweet hips!"

At the Arrancar's action and declaration, the murmuring that had filled the room stopped as all the available air was sucked into disbelieving lungs.

Time slowed for Retsu Unohana, then, as her usually-sharp mind struggled to deal with what she had just seen.

She could have sworn that she had just seen her Lieutenant, the girl who was her daughter in all but blood, be sexually assaulted in her own Division, and right in front of her, no less.

She replayed the memory, comparing it to the current goings-on in the cafeteria.

Yes, yes, all the expected after-effects were there: Grimmjow withdrawing his hand, Isane jumping forward slightly, hands clasping her rear as a startled shriek escaped her lungs.

Retsu Unohana blinked once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then, her blood began to boil in the rage that only a mother could know.

She immediately began to stride forward, her brow dark and terrible with fury as her hand slipped down to the hilt of her blade, ready to–

_POW!_

She stopped in her tracks as Isane wheeled around on her heel and brought her fist into direct contact with Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's left eye.

The man hit the floor, cracking his head on it with a sickening thud. He then proceeded to sit up (struggling to do so; he had landed in what appeared to be a puddle of watery mashed potatoes) and touch his eye, wincing at the swelling already there. His good eye stared at his once-victim's own fright-and-shock-filled face, a form of muddled disbelief spilling forth.

"You...you _hurt _me..." His voice was, so usually loud and raucous, was now quiet, full of bewilderment, as if reality had upended itself and then turned inside-out in front of him.

Isane, braids and earrings still swinging from the force of her spin and counterattack, immediately put a hand to her mouth.

"I...I..._I am so sorry!"_

Before the girl could speak another apology, or Grimmjow could even think about getting violent, Retsu Unohana, after schooling her expression, decided to step in, her now-noticed presence causing all the tension to immediately leach out of the room.

The two people, one on the floor holding his eye, the other with a hand covering her mouth, both wide-eyed with surprise, looked up at her.

"If you would both," spoke the Captain of the Fourth Division, "please follow me to my office."

There was no hint of a request within the words. Please was a mere formality here; they were _expected_ to follow her, even if she was leading them to Hellmouth itself.

And the way both Arrancar and Lieutenant felt, she may as well have been taking them there.

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_**End A/N: **_**Uh-oh...sounds like trouble's a-brewin...so, Review, please! You know you want to! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Also, once again, FANART IS ENCOURAGED!**


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Well, another chapter! Nothing much to say here, 'cept that I'm white, straight, write romance, and I do not own Bleach.**_

_**FANART! GIMME FANART!**_

**Ch 9**

**Close Quarters Conflict**

Retsu Unohana looked at the two sitting in the chairs in front of her desk. It wasn't very often that she had the need to take anyone in her Division to task within her office (only a handful of times in her long afterlife), and so she felt the need to take this slowly.

Isane had her head lowered, a look of melancholy that surpassed the usual amount on her face. Knees were together and the shihakushou covering them was being wrung by slender hands, arms supports by slumped shoulders. In short, she was the very picture of dejection and shame.

This was a polar opposite to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

The Arrancar slouched in his chair, arms crossed and a scowl on his face fit to make a schoolyard bully proud. His legs were spread wide as he took his ease in the tense atmosphere, as though perfectly oblivious to the seriousness of this situation.

In short, he was the very picture of defiance.

Except for the black and purple bruise now outlining his left eye.

Unohana had to hide a smile. She had hoped Isane would surprise her, and...well...

Another smile was stifled as Grimmjow absently rubbed his bruise, then stared at his treasonous hand with disgust, as if he couldn't believe it had showed weakness in front of the enemy. Said hand was tucked back into his armpit as his crossed arms tightened.

_'Just like a child...'_

"I suppose," she began quietly, "that you both know why you are here."

Isane seemed to shrink further into herself as she began worrying her lower lip. Grimmjow, on the other hand, gave a small smirk, which promptly turned into a small wince as the motion aggravated his eye.

"I must say that I did not..._anticipate_...having to step in like this, but the situation has appeared to spiral out of control, much to my surprise," and she directed a pointed look toward Isane.

"Lieutenant. You asked to have Grimmjow placed under your supervision with the express understanding that he would be under control at all times. Over the past few weeks, it has been observed that the exact opposite has taken place, which has resulted in the repeated disruption of regular activities in my Division."

Isane said nothing, nodding meekly as her eyes studied the grain pattern in the wooden floorboards.

"Grimmjow."

At the sound of his name, the Arrancar stopped rubbing his eye (again) and scowled at her. _"_What?!_" _he barked, irritation present in his tone. Retsu merely smiled a small smile and continued.

"The last three weeks have made something very apparent to me: you are unhappy."

"You _think?" _He pointed to the inch-wide band of brown, brass-buckled leather around his neck. "Would _you _be happy with one of these on you?"

Unohana waited for him to stop talking. "I don't imagine so, Grimmjow, but I don't think that is why you are not satisfied. It _contributes _to it, but it is not the main reason."

She folded her hands in a stately manner as she sat back in her chair, eyes never leaving his face. "No, Grimmjow, I believe it is because there is no _balance _for you here, no routine. Every night you are shunted off to your cell, and every morning you are taken out by Lieutenant Kotetsu,who gives you orders for the day and then goes about her duties. Sometimes she is there to supervise you." Unohana shrugged. "And sometimes not."

Isane shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"This is not to discount Lieutenant Kotetsu's effort in balancing her duties. However, one can only be stretched so far, and Isane was already at her limit in the first place."

Captain Unohana rose from behind her desk, standing over the two in an unmistakeable show of authority. "It was with this in mind that I have made the following decision. In order to better facilitate both the running of my Division, the Project to make Grimmjow more acquiescent, and to better ensure his _survival_..."

At the pause, Grimmjow scoffed. "Will you _please_ get it over with? I really gotta drain the weasel..."

Isane blushed.

Retsu raised a brow.

"Very well then. Isane?"

The tall girl sat up straight. "Y-yes ma'am!"

"You are hereby relieved of your duties as Lieutenant of Division Four."

Isane Kotetsu's eyes bulged straight out of her head as her jaw fell slack.

"Instead, your daily time will be spent with Mr. Jaegerjaquez in order to help him become acclimated to our way of life."

Silence was the word of the day, which an errant housefly apparently did not hear about as he buzzed in and then back out of Isane's open mouth. Grimmjow heard it, however, and decided to ignore it.

"Why the _fuck_ do I gotta spend all day with _her?!" _he screeched at the placidly smiling face behind the desk.

"Very simple, Grimmjow. Familiarity breeds contempt."

"..._What?!"_

Retsu nodded her head toward her still-shocked Lieutenant. "Isane is afraid of you. However, if she sees that there is nothing to really fear from an Arrancar with a Reiatsu-dampening collar on, she will begin to be able to influence your behavior," and at this she raised a finger in the air, like a Boddhisatva giving a sermon, "_for the good."_

Before Grimmjow could utter a word, Isane woke back up. "But, Captain! What about my–"

"Your duties will be delegated to the other Seated Officers."

"The paper–"

"Yasochika will be handling it."

"And surgery–"

"Hanataro is a rather skilled surgeon, Isane."

"Herbal–"

"I am more than capable of watching your gardens."

Isane stammered for a bit, but was calmed down by Retsu's shushing motion. "It is a temporary fixture, Isane. You are still my Lieutenant. Just think of this as...an extended assignment."

The girl fell silent the corners of her mouth pulled down in an even more unhappy expression. Grimmjow merely scoffed, looking off to the side as he began mutating under his breath.

"Furthermore..."

The muttering stop and the pair looked to Captain Unohana.

"I am going to implement a change in housing." She sat back down, pinning the two to their chairs with a penetrating gaze. "It occurs to me that Grimmjow would do better with a little more...cultural immersion. As such...Grimmjow shall now be inhabiting your quarters with you, Isane."

Once again, silence fell, broken only by the sound of Isane stammering.

"W-w-w-w-w..."

Grimmjow, on the other hand, had gone strangely quiet, an introspective look in his eye.

This was not missed by Unohana. In the meantime, Isane found her tongue.

"B-b-b-but _Captain! _That's not–!"

She was hushed by a palm held vertically. "This is not up for discussion, Isane." The Captain then turned to the Arrancar. "You will be moved in tomorrow morning."

A snort was her answer, though the thoughtful gleam in Grimmjow's eyes was still noticeable.

"Very well, then. Isane." The silver-haired healer, whose gaze had fallen back to her knees, met the call with glazed eyes. "You are dismissed. Mr. Jaegerjaquez shall be moved in by tomorrow evening. Grimmjow, please stay, if you would."

Moving as if she was sleepwalking, the Lieutenant shuffled her way to the door, fumbled with the handle for a moment, slid it open, and departed.

Quiet moments followed, with Captain Unohana selecting a pen from the cup on her desk and shuffling a stack of papers, paying no mind to the former Espada. After a time spent in this fashion, Grimmjow began to get antsy.

He tapped his toe.

Retsu merely signed a paper.

He cracked his neck.

More shuffling of paper.

A masculine cough.

A feminine humming.

Grimmjow decided that his time would be better spent elsewhere, and began to stand up.

A frost-cold voice stopped him in mid-air. "Sit. Down. Grimmjow."

The same force that silenced him weeks ago in the torture chamber of Division Two forced him back onto his rear as Captain Retsu Unohana gently placed her pen down onto her desk.

She looked at him, calmly studying his features with eyes that were chips of ice from the Devil's cold heart.

Despite himself and his desire for trouble, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez swallowed hard.

"I must say," Unohana said quietly. "I am impressed with you, Mr. Jaegerjaquez. Your penchant for mayhem far, far exceeded my expectations. In a little less than a month, you have successfully disrupted the routine, the budget, and most importantly, the peace and quiet of my Division."

Grimmjow tried to recover his composure by blustering. "Well, I'm glad that you're–"

"I did not say you could talk."

He faltered, then resumed speaking, hoping apparent anger would cow her into letting him take control of the situation. "You can't tell–"

_"Shut. Up. Arrancar."_

Grimmjow clammed up as the menace in the smaller woman's voice seemed to surround him.

Said woman proceeded to fold her delicate-seeming hands upon her desk. "Grimmjow," she said. "Do you know why you have not been remanded to the custody of Captains Feng and Kurotsuchi?"

He shook his head, reluctant to talk.

"It isn't because word of your antics has not spread. On the contrary, Sui-Feng is perfectly aware of your...antics. No, Mr. Jaegerjaquez, that is not the reason. The reason," and she leaned back in her chair, "why this has not happened is due to the fact that I have been heading off our mutual friend every time she has taken it into her head that you have crossed the line.

"She has shown up twelve different times, each occasion accompanied by her squad's best and brightest, in order to take you in. Luckily, I can be most..._persuasive _at times, which has served me well, particularly during your stay here. However, I am growing tired of having to cover for you. And today's little incident nearly made me reconsider this entire arrangement. If it wasn't for Isane's little...act of reciprocation, I would have incapacitated you and then dragged you to Division Twelve myself."

At this, Grimmjow noticed his hand unconsciously creeping up to his eye, and angrily yanked it back down.

"On the way here, I had a revelation, as well. I have invested far too much into you to admit defeat now. My time is valuable, and I do not like to waste it. And the fact that I have to take that valuable time and spend it cleaning up your messes is rather..._irritating_ to me." She leaned forward in her chair, forcing Grimmjow to subconsciously lean back in his.

"I do _not like_ being irritated, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I get rather _frustrated_. And when I am frustrated, I ensure that the irritant is...informed of my displeasure. Am I clear?"

Grimmjow nodded. There was something familiar in the eyes of this Captain...he couldn't place his finger on what it was, but the feeling of discomfort he got from it was familiar as well..

"Excellent." The Captain rose from her seat. The Arrancar did not copy the movement, understanding that permission had not been given. He did, however, keep a weather eye on the slightly-forbidding figure as she circled her desk to stand behind him.

"Also, Grimmjow..."

He perked his ears and began to turn in his chair...only to find two small, soft, _strong_ hands holding him in place by the shoulders.

"I would like you to think on something...in order for a healer to properly be able to perform their art, an..._understanding_ of the nature of the wound is necessary...and the best way to understand a hurt..." Sudden pain from the hands on his shoulders lanced through his body, blinding him, nearly causing him to pass out...and was gone a moment later, before he had a chance to yell or even gasp for a breath. He proceeded to do so now, as a bitter, metallic taste coated his tongue and spots danced before his eyes.

"..is to know how to cause it..." finished the soft, lilting voice behind him as those lying hands kept him from collapsing out of his chair.

Warm breath caressed his ear as soft lips descended. "And if I hear...or see...or even _think_ that you are in any way hurting or menacing my girl, and yes, I _do_ consider her my daughter...then I _will_ teach you _exactly_ the extent of my understanding of my art..."

Grimmjow, breath slowing as he recovered, turned his head to snarl a reply...and then he saw her eyes...

"Am I clear, Mr. Jaegerjaquez?"

He was silent, mouth agape as memory of where he had seen eyes like that returned, and then swallowed. "Y-yes...ma'am..."

Retsu Unohana stood up straight then, those terrible eyes and hands hiding behind their covers as she smiled happily at him. "I'm so glad. Now then, I think that the best place for you to spend the rest of your day would be your quarters. Pack your things; remember, you and Lieutenant Kotetsu will be sharing her chambers for the foreseeable future!"

Grimmjow got up, hastily turning around as pure instinct took over, the need to survive surfacing as the knowledge he had gleaned from her eyes remained in the forefront of his mind. Retsu seemed amused by his movements, the near-animal refusal to turn his back to her prominent as he stared at her chin in lieu of her eyes. He shuffled to the door in this manner, reaching behind to slide it open.

Captain Retsu Unohana waved a small goodbye to him.

He shut the portal, not bothering to return it...

And hastily made his way to the end of the hall, where a nice, solid steel door could come between him and the woman with Nnoitra Gilga's eyes...and the power to back them up.

_**=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7=Z7**_

Isane Kotetsu walked out of the office of Retsu Unohana like she was in a dream, unfeeling and numb to the goings-on around her. Eyes were on the floor as she walked, body on autopilot, decades of walking through these hallowed halls guiding her.

A nurse bustled by with a stack of clean linen in her arms on a collision course with the Lieutenant.

Isane merely stepped aside and continued.

Hanataro stumbled past, carrying several beakers, and dropping one.

Isane grabbed it out of midair and placed it back onto the stack, absently nodding her head at his mumble of gratitude.

She bypassed the main office, walked out of the main building...and proceeded to the Tenth Division.

She poked her head inside, where Toshiro Hitsugaya had left his Lieutenant to finish the work...but instead was napping on the couch.

A nudge on the shoulder.

A hastily stifled greeting and a motion to follow.

The process was repeated with the Eighth Division's Lieutenant, in the Archives next to Tenth.

Then the little group made its way to a small building that sat snugly in between the Fifth and Sixth Divisions, which just so happened to be the three friend's favorite place to lunch.

It was also where they went for a little liquid comfort as needed.

After placing their orders (since Isane was adamant, even in her subdued state, that drinking on an empty stomach was not healthy) Nanao Ise, the bookish Lieutenant of the Eighth, adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat at the silver-haired woman in between them.

"Is everything alright, Isane?"

Isane merely gave her a slightly misty look and returned her gaze to the table. She shrugged, giving a noncommittal noise as she did.

Rangiku waved her hand in front of the girl's eyes. "Hello? Soul Society to Isane?"

Isane blinked.

The gorgeous strawberry-blonde frowned in frustration. She and Nanao had been trying to get their friend to talk the entire way to the restaurant, but no luck whatsoever.

Whatever it was, it was bad.

Nanao, however, was having none of it. "Isane. If you want me to stay, then you will have to talk. Otherwise, I have work to do." Ignoring Rangiku's scowl of disapproval, she got up from her seat, gathering the habitually-carried clipboard to her chest.

A hand on her sleeve stopped her.

Looking back, Nanao saw Isane give her a mournful look and pat the just-vacated seat.

As soon as Nanao made herself comfortable again, Isane took a deep breath...

Once she was finished, Nanao's eyes were huge and her mouth was a grim line.

Rangiku, on the other hand, had a gaping jaw and a pale face to go with it (Isane absently noted that she still looked beautiful, and felt a moment of feminine hatred).

"He's...moving...in..." Matsumoto whispered, voice hoarse with shock. Isane dumbly nodded her head, unhappiness writ upon her face. A shake of a blonde head accompanied the muttered "I cant believe it..."

"Believe it," came the hollow response. "I just don't know _why_. Captain Unohana would _never_ do something like this. Why now? Why me?" Hands buried themselves in hair. "Why _him?!"_

Nanao Ise laid a comforting hand upon her sister Lieutenant shoulder, patting it gently. "Do not worry yourself so much, Isane; tomorrow, you merely need to go to Captain Unohana and tell her that you are not willing to go through with her plan. Then, the situation will-"

"_No!_"

Nanao jumped slightly at the interruption. "And why-ever not?"

Isane stared at her best friend in disbelief. "I can't just question her like that!"

Nanao blinked large eyes behind larger glasses. "Again, why not?"

Isane sputtered, growing more frustrated at Rangiku's expression of humor at her inability to form a sentence. "I...You..._I just cant!_"

Rangiku snorted. "I do it all the time."

"But I don't!" Isane buried her head in her arms. "You just don't understand..." she moaned. "I cant do something like that to the Captain! She's _counting _on me..."

"And if," Nanao interrupted, "you are not able to do as she asks, it is your duty to tell her that you are unable to complete the task she sets before you." She primly adjusted her glasses again.

"Isane." At the rich sound of her other best friend's voice, the distraught girl looked up. Storm-grey eyes seemed to radiate warmth and understanding at her, and a hand reached out and took her own.

"It seems to me that Captain Unohana made this arrangement because she thought you would be able to handle it. Now tell me," Rangiku said soothingly. "Has she ever given you a mission that you weren't able to accomplish?"

A slow shake of a head.

"Any assignment you couldn't complete?"

Another shake of the head, this time with a slight straightening of shoulders.

"Any task you couldn't perform? Any objective you couldn't reach?"

"No..." responded Isane Kotetsu. "No, she hasn't."

Rangiku let her hand go and clapped her own together, a large smile on her face. "Well, there you go! If Captain Unohana didn't think you'd survive this in one piece, she obviously wouldn't have given you this mission!"

Isane straightened all the way, a small grin finding its way to her mouth. Rangiku was right! Of course her wise Captain wouldn't give her a burden too heavy to lift! This was just another way for Retsu Unohana to say to her Lieutenant how much faith she had in her. A stab of sadness entered her, then.

"I can't claim to have done a good job of it so far, though..." she lamented quietly, as the downcast look returned. "If anything, I've botched it from day one...and I even volunteered for this assignment!"

Nanao snorted a bit. "Then consider this a way for your Captain to give you a chance to start over. Do things right this time: be his authority. Don't let him walk on you- you are the one in control."

"_And it's about damn time, too!_" Isane and Nanao jumped as Rangiku slammed a fist on the table. "Now Isane gets to show a man just what his place is! Remember, Isane; we gotta keep 'em down, otherwise we'll _all_ end up getting slapped on the ass! We've got your back!"

As Nanao scolded Rangiku for her outburst and the food and sake arrived, Isane smiled. In the end, her friends were right. Captain Unohana wouldn't make her do anything she honestly couldn't, even if she volunteered for it. She raised a cup of sake to her lips, enjoying the warmth of the beverage going down. Why, it was just like she told Kiyone-

Nanao and Rangiku stopped sniping at each other long enough to stare at a coughing Isane. Rangiku patted her on the back as Nanao got a cup of water. "Isane? Are you alright?"

Isane gasped a breath as she recovered, gratefully taking the water from Nanao. She swigged a gulp, and then, once she caught her wind, turned to them both.

"_What am I going to tell Kiyone?!"_

_**A/N: Uh-oooohh...Retsu's true, hidden nature comes forth a bit, Grimmjow gets the piss scared outta him, and Isane needs to tell her baby sister, Kiyone the Blabbermouth! THE DRAMA! OH THE DRAMA! GIMME FANART!**_


End file.
